


Black Canary: Rebirth

by ArlyssTolero, Nyame



Series: In Defiance of Fate [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Episode: s04e18 Eleven-Fifty-Nine, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 04:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArlyssTolero/pseuds/ArlyssTolero, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyame/pseuds/Nyame
Summary: One minute she’s convulsing on a hospital bed, the next she’s lurching up in her own bed on the one-year anniversary of the sinking of the “Queen’s Gambit”. Dinah Laurel Lance doesn’t know how, why, or who, but somehow, she’s been granted a second chance at life, and she chooses not to waste it and decides to alter the course of her life, unwilling for it to end at the hands of a deluded man-child once again as a message for the two most important men in her life. If she is to die, Laurel decides, she will die because she made her enemies rage at her mere existence. The Black Canary will rise and spread her wings once more.
Relationships: Alex Danvers/Sara Lance, Billy Malone/Helena Bertinelli, Dinah Lance (Arrow) & Laurel Lance, Helena Bertinelli & Barbara Gordon & Laurel Lance, Laurel Lance & Billy Malone, Laurel Lance & Quentin Lance, Laurel Lance & Sandra Woosan, Laurel Lance & Sara Lance, Laurel Lance & Tommy Merlyn, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, McKenna Hall & Laurel Lance, McKenna Hall/Tommy Merlyn, Ted Grant & Laurel Lance
Series: In Defiance of Fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216247
Comments: 66
Kudos: 60





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrow.
> 
> A/N: Trying something new (or perhaps old) in this story by having no preface and/or afterword and no lengthy chapter notes beyond what is truly necessary. Also, chapters are shorter in this story, between 2-3K words. Like with “Dawn”, I will only be posting one chapter per day until I am finished writing, at which point I will be posting two chapters per day.

Dinah Laurel Lance awoke with a shuddering, choking gasp, hands clenching her blankets. She shot upright in bed, her hair hanging in sweaty tendrils down in front of her eyes. She pushed her hair back away from her face, chest rising and falling rapidly as her mind raced and her hands came up to brace either side of her head. The last thing that she remembered was asking Oliver to make sure that if the worst ever did happen, if she died on one of these missions with the team, that he would make sure that she wasn’t the last Canary so that a part of her would always be with him. Then she’d felt a pain in her head and then… nothing.

Laurel’s green eyes darted from side-to-side, taking in her surroundings the way that Nyssa and Oliver had taught her. She was in her bedroom at her apartment. Laurel pulled her hands away from the sides of her head and strands of hair pulled out with it. Laurel froze. Her hair had been back to its original honey-blonde for three years now, but there wasn’t a single strand of blonde in the hair that was currently stretching out with her hands. Numbly, Laurel swung her legs over the side of her bed and made her way to the bathroom, stopping briefly as she looked at her couch and saw no sign of Thea Queen staying up late and watching television at low volume so as to not disturb Laurel. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, Laurel flipped on the light in her bathroom and looked in the mirror, only to start, because the face that stared back at her was that of a stranger.

She was a brunette again when she hadn’t been a brunette since the summer after the Undertaking. Her face was just a little bit more oval than it had been the last time she had looked in the mirror, her skin tone paler than the tan she had had. She _looked_ younger, early twenties maybe. She touched her face with her hands, exploring it, making sure it was actually real and this wasn’t some trick. “What is this?” she whispered. She left the bathroom, hurrying back to her bedroom, where she picked up her cell phone (which was not the same model she had had last time she had used her phone) and turned it on. She shifted from foot to foot in nervousness waiting for the phone to boot up until, finally, the display lit up and the date and time was shown.

_12:05 a.m._

_September 27, 2008_

Laurel felt as if she had been doused in cold water. This was impossible; this couldn’t be true. Her phone had been switched out by Thea or someone as a practical joke, the date on the phone changed by Felicity’s hacking skills. But the more Laurel looked at the phone and thought over her changed appearance, the more certain she became that something _impossible_ had happened to her. She had heard Ollie talk about the fact that Barry could time travel. But how had _she_ done it, assuming this wasn’t some insane dream, or the events of the past four years hadn’t been a wild dream all its own? No, the latter couldn’t be true. Everything was too vivid in her memories to be a dream. She was in the past. She was in the past, exactly one year after the _Queen’s Gambit_ had sunk to the depths, presumably taking her sister and boyfriend along with it. And yet she knew that wasn’t the case. Oliver was on Lian Yu _right now_ , and Sara was _somewhere_ , maybe with the League, maybe not, she had never really found out Sara’s history. Laurel herself was in her first year of law school, her father on an almost-constant bender, her mother having recently divorced her father and moved to Central City.

If this was true, if this was _real_ , then none of it had happened yet. The Undertaking, Tommy’s death, the Siege, Sara’s death, the Outbreak, Damien Darhk… her breath hitched at the last thought she had, her hand going instantly to her right side as she shuddered in remembrance of what had happened to her before waking up here. Darhk had carved up her lung with Oliver’s arrow; the doctor had told her in private that she was probably finished as a vigilante, she would have a hard-enough time breathing and would probably need an inhaler to get through the day if she hadn’t died.

She had died. Laurel’s legs quaked beneath her and she fell onto her bed, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. She set her phone aside, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing the way that Nyssa had taught her, calming herself. She could get through this like she had got through everything else. But… she had _died_. She, Laurel Lance, had _died_ either the day before her thirty-first birthday or _on_ her birthday, depending on when she had drew her last breath. That-That was a sick cosmic joke if there ever was one.

She had _died_ at age thirty, a little over a year into her career as a vigilante. And why? Because she had pissed off a villain with her heroics? Because she had made a nuisance of herself, someone to be gotten rid of? No, because Damien Darhk wanted to punish her father and, most likely, torment Oliver by killing her with one of her ex-boyfriend’s signature weapons. Laurel felt a flash of rage shoot through her at the idea that in the end, her fate had been to be a _message_ to the two most important men in her life, to be a sacrificial lamb led to slaughter. How _dare_ the universe do this to her! After everything she had lost, everything she had strived to make of herself, and this was her fate? She couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ accept it, and apparently some force at work in the universe agreed with her because she was here, alive, at the age of twenty-three again. She had her whole future out in front of her again. But did she want that future to be the same?

 _No,_ she decided. _Not if it means dying at age thirty because of a petulant man-child._ She was determined that if she ever faced Darhk again, and there was little chance that she wouldn’t if the future unfolded as it had before, she would be _ready_. She needed more than her martial skills to face a potent evil like Darhk; she needed _protection_ against Dark Magic, and thanks to her experiences this past year, she knew just who to track down for information on that sort of thing. The question was what the price would be. Something, she reflected, she would have to decide on later. But she drew the line at _sleeping_ with John Constantine. She shuddered as she remembered the way he talked about her, Felicity, Thea, and the unconscious Sara.

The tremors shaking her body finally subsided and she placed her hands on her thighs, opening her eyes again and looking at the bedside clock. 12:10 a.m. Wait? Did she have a class tomorrow? If she did, what time? Even though she knew she had her schedule written down somewhere in her apartment, Laurel felt her stomach churn, for more than one reason. Once upon a time, law school and becoming a lawyer had been so important to her. But as she looked back at her time as a lawyer now, so much of it was wasted because the kinds of criminals she pursued were protected from on-high by the likes of Malcolm Merlyn, or their wealth and power protected them on its own. One of her greatest victories at C.N.R.I., taking down Cyrus Vanch, had been overturned on a technicality and the District Attorney had refused to even entertain any arguments she had against the man being released from prison, as if all of her hard work on the case meant _nothing_. But that hadn’t really been a surprise; Kate Spencer wasn’t a servant of the people. At least, not the people who paid her salary. Instead, she was the servant of those who bought their children’s way out of trouble, people like the Merlyns and the Queens.

Laurel had never been unaware of the fact that her two best friends got away with a hell of a lot more than they should, but they were her _best friends_ , one of them her _boyfriend_ , and so she had let that slide because she cared for them. But that didn’t change the fact that the very same system that saw Ollie and Tommy get off scot-free after a drunken assault of a paparazzi or whatever also saw the likes of Cyrus Vanch and Adam Hunt skate by on technicalities. As if from a distance, she remembered her first night out as Black Canary, the way those thugs had asked who she was, and her answer, which was burned into her mind: “ _I’m the justice you can’t run from._ ”

Starling City, as it was currently known, was not a city where justice reigned and the criminal and the corrupt suffered their due punishment under the law. No, Starling was a city where the criminal and corrupt reigned supreme, where justice was all but outlawed, and where hope was a distant memory, barely a spark. Rage roiled in Laurel’s gut as she remembered countless defeats at the hands of men like Adam Hunt, men who had the system bought and paid for because Malcolm Merlyn protected them, used them to keep the Glades downtrodden while he slowly criminalized the entire city district.

She needed to fight this injustice, but she couldn’t do it as an attorney; not again. But she still needed access to criminal databases, and the best place to get access to that kind of information was the Starling City Police Department. She had acquiesced to her father’s demands that she pursue a career outside of being a cop like him, and she had chosen a lawyer as her second option. Her first career path that she had wanted to pursue had been to enter the police academy. She had been afraid that her father might pull strings if she pursued it regardless, which was why she had focused on her college courses and getting the grades necessary to qualify for law school. If she couldn’t enforce the law, her thinking had been, then she could at least defend it as an attorney.

But now her father was on a near-constant bender and he had very little pull, if he had ever had any, and that meant she could apply for police training. He would be pissed as hell at her when he found out that she had left the career path towards becoming an attorney behind and join the force. He would be especially pissed when he realized she wasn’t even going to push to become a detective like him, even though that would typically take four or five years anyways. As a beat cop, she would always have an ear to the street, hear things that were ignored by the higher-ups. Not to mention beat cops were pretty much invisible to detectives and especially to the bureaucrats who ran the police department like Commissioner Nudocerdo.

She needed to write all of this down, she realized. She needed to develop a road map to the future she desired, including what her ultimate goals were meant to be. She stood and headed to the spare room that she had set up for studying in this time period, flipping on the light and going to her writing desk, where a stack of notebooks and a selection of pens waited. She smiled softly as she looked over all of the little things that she vaguely recalled from this simpler time in her life. She sat down at the writing desk and flipped open a notebook to a blank page, uncapping a black pen and hesitating for a moment. What _were_ her goals? What did she want to _accomplish_ with this second chance she had been given? After a moment, she wrote out her first, overarching goal at the top of the page.

_Goal #1: Become The Black Canary_

While working as a cop would allow her to help the city in the daylight as she had tried to do first at C.N.R.I. and then as an Assistant District Attorney (restricted as she was in which cases she was allowed to pursue), the city _needed_ hope again, it needed someone who would fight for them outside of the law. Oliver had inspired hope as the Hood and the Arrow, but it had been a fractured sort of hope because he _kept leaving_. He disappeared for weeks after his confrontation with Merlyn’s alter ego, he vanished after the Undertaking, he disappeared for over a month after going to face Ra’s, and finally, after Roy had taken the fall for him and he had done what he had to defeat Ra’s, he had left to play house with Felicity for five months. Starling City deserved better than that; it deserved a symbol of hope that was constant, that was always there, stalwart and ready to defend them, ready to deal out justice where the police and the courts failed. It needed the Black Canary.

She would need to train first, get herself back into fighting shape so that she could make full use of the skills Ted, Nyssa, and Oliver had passed on to her. But she could be back in fighting shape in less than a year and then, then she could begin working on bringing hope back to the city.

On the page below her stated goal, she wrote out:

  1. _Eat healthier than I am at this time._
  2. _Get back into shape._
  3. _Put together my suit._



Laurel turned the page, deciding to do each goal as its own separate page. She tapped the page with the end of the pen thoughtfully before writing out her second goal.

_Goal #2: Stop/Kill Malcolm Merlyn_

Malcolm Merlyn was a monster, a domestic terrorist who intended to kill thousands of innocent people all in the name of avenging his wife. Laurel had learned from Thea that Daniel Brickwell had killed Merlyn’s wife and the man had ultimately given up killing the man out of some twisted love for his daughter. Laurel scoffed as she thought those last four words. Malcolm Merlyn didn’t have a loving bone in his body. He had used Thea to _kill_ Sara and start in motion the chain of events that led to Oliver facing off with the League of Assassins, and ultimately manipulated Ollie into making him the new Ra’s al Ghul. How Oliver had thought _that_ was a good idea, she still didn’t know. The Undertaking, Sara’s death, Ra’s, his alliance with Damien Darhk that had involved the kidnapping of Oliver’s son and ultimately led to Laurel’s own death… so much pain and suffering could be laid at Merlyn’s feet.

But… she couldn’t go after Merlyn directly. Not at first, even though she yearned to. She needed to destabilize his power base first, cripple those he protected. So, she began listing things that she needed to do to achieve her ultimate goal.

  1. _Become Black Canary._
  2. _Target those who profit from the suffering of others._
  3. _Find out if there’s anyone besides Moira helping Merlyn._
  4. _Cut the head off the snake._



Yes, that would do for now. Laurel turned the page and stared at it for a moment. She knew what this one would be about but writing it… writing it meant admitting what had happened, and she had been focusing mostly on what she had the opportunity to do now instead of what had precipitated this. Finally, reluctantly, she wrote out her next goal, her only other goal for the time being.

_Goal #3: Prepare for Damien Darhk_

Laurel closed her eyes, thinking back on all of her experiences with Darhk and the knowledge she had about him from what Oliver had revealed that Ra’s had told him. Darhk was not only a sorcerer who derived his power from the idol (and why had Ollie put it back together, _why?_ ), he was also a former member of the League of Assassins, and not just any member. He had been considered to become Ra’s al Ghul and been a contemporary of the current Ra’s. That meant he had been an Heir to the Demon, like Nyssa, and that meant his training was going to be on par with Nyssa or even Ra’s himself. Assuming she could bypass his magic, there was still that threat to face.

  1. _Get protection against Dark Magic from John Constantine._
  2. _Learn *more* fighting styles, not just boxing and the League training._
  3. _Learn how to use all weapons, just in case._



Laurel closed the notebook and capped the pen, setting it to the side, and began to wander back to her bedroom. She looked at the clock. 12:46 a.m. Laurel collapsed on her bed, bunching her pillow up under her head, and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come. Tomorrow was going to be busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Regarding Laurel’s birthday: she was born in 1985 and attended school in the same grade as Tommy and Oliver. American cut-off date for each grade is roughly August. People use KC’s birthday as a placeholder, but if that were the case, Laurel would’ve been in the grade below Oliver and Tommy unless she skipped a grade. Therefore, she must’ve been born between January and August of 1985. April 10 is the birthday of Black Canary in the comics. That is all I am saying on the matter.


	2. Tommy

As luck would have it, the academy was just beginning to take fresh applications and Laurel filled hers out quickly and quietly, brushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear and making a mental note to dye her hair back to its original honey-blonde. Her reasons for dying her hair brown had been primarily focused on not being associated in people’s eyes with her Playboy-caliber bombshell of a sister who gloried in the stereotypes of being blonde with big blue eyes. Laurel handed in her application and was informed that they would process it and she would hear back within two weeks. That was fine. She was sure she would get in, and once she was in, she would be earning her full starting salary as a beat cop just like every other cadet. One of the perks of law enforcement, she supposed.

As she pulled away from the academy, Laurel’s thoughts turned to her relationships with the people in her life, the people that she loved. Her mother was in Central City, using her inheritance from her wealthy Gothamite parents to search for Sara while teaching at Central City University. Laurel had to admit that while she _had_ visited her mother on occasion, they just weren’t that close. Sara had always been her mother’s favorite. Oh, who was she kidding? Sara had been _both_ of her parents’ favorite and Laurel had resented her for it. Sara never had to try to earn their approval; everything that she did was golden. Since her car was currently waiting at a red light, Laurel closed her eyes, focused on her breathing, and calmed down. Getting upset over all of that helped no one, least of all her. It was that sort of mentality that had driven her to drink and pills in the first place.

Speaking of substance abuse… her relationship with her father was _horrible_ at the moment. He had loudly and publicly made insinuations not only now but in the future (such as at Tommy’s party where he berated her for thinking of taking the job in San Francisco) that he would have preferred that _she_ was on the _Gambit_ instead of Sara, implying he would rather have her dead and Sara alive than the other way around. He had also, on occasion, outright blamed her for Sara’s death because _she_ was the one “dumb enough to befriend someone like Queen,” meaning someone who wasn’t from the same social class the Lances were typically part of even with Dinah descending from the wealthy Gotham Drakes. Laurel swallowed the lump in her throat as she realized that no matter what, her relationship with her father was going to be horrible because he hadn’t come out of that mentality at all until Oliver returned, because then he had someone to focus his hatred and vitriol on aside from the daughter that he wished was dead and blamed for her sister’s death. She knew he didn’t really believe that, that he loved her the way she loved him. But sometimes, when she was struggling, she couldn’t help but think of those days where she was the sole focus of his drunken vitriol and wonder if maybe he hadn’t been telling the truth.

Thea Queen was thirteen-years-old right now, but Laurel didn’t know if she would be welcome at the Queen Mansion, if only because of the way her father publicly denounced the Queens as homewreckers and daughter-killers. And even if she were welcome, associating with the Queens would raise her father’s ire, drive him further into the bottle, and likely make any interactions they had into bitter recrimination sessions, which would be hard enough to avoid.

And Tommy… Laurel sighed. Tommy Merlyn had given his _life_ for her, and she knew he had carried a torch for her for years. But it wouldn’t be right of her to encourage him in any way because in the end, her heart was Oliver’s. She knew that, in the future she had lived, she wasn’t the love of his life, but he was certainly the love of hers, and maybe, just maybe if she became the best version of herself as Black Canary years earlier, he would see her as more than just another teammate but as a partner, a confidant, someone he could work with to save their city from the likes of Merlyn. But Tommy was still one of her best friends, and she had shamefully pushed him away after Ollie and Sara ‘died’ on the _Gambit_. She had pushed Thea away, too, but Tommy had kept coming back like the good and loyal friend that he was, taking her harsh words and her bitter recriminations. She owed him her friendship, even if she couldn’t give him her heart.

Laurel bit her bottom lip, looking at the time on her phone. He _should_ be awake unless he had had a late-night bender with a leggy model. But knowing Tommy, if she called, he would come even if it meant hurrying whoever it was out of his apartment. She pulled up her contacts, selected Tommy’s name, and hit the call icon before her bravery left her. The phone rang three times before he picked up. “Laurel?” he asked cautiously.

“Hi, Tommy,” Laurel said, her voice cracking. It was so _good_ to hear his voice again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, instantly concerned.

“I- No, not really,” Laurel said. “I-I could really use a friend. I know I don’t have the right to ask after how I’ve treated you, but-”

“Name the time and place, and I’ll be there,” Tommy said.

“Chang’s,” Laurel said after a moment. It was a Chinese place, but not one in Chinatown and thus deeply-embedded with the Triad. It was also one of the healthier takeout places, as Laurel had learned in her time as Black Canary. “Say half an hour?”

“I’ll be there,” Tommy promised. “It-It’ll be good to see you again, Laurel.”

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel was sitting at a booth in Chang’s, dressed in slim jeans, sneakers, and a striped long-sleeved shirt when she spotted Tommy at the front. She waved to him and he waved back, that boyish grin that she knew so well springing into being. He moved through the spaces between tables as quickly as he could, and Laurel slid out of the booth, reaching out to wrap her arms around him for the first time in three years. She held on tight, and he held her close as well, the two of them simply basking in each other’s presence. Finally, Laurel pulled away, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes without Tommy seeing. He did, and he offered her a handkerchief from his pocket. She gave him a tremulous smile as they sat back down. “So, what’s going on?” Tommy asked concernedly.

“A lot,” Laurel admitted. She couldn’t tell him everything, but she could let him know what she was feeling about her current path. “I woke up last night and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I ended up thinking a lot about the past year, and the path I’ve been on. I’m dropping out of college, Tommy.”

“What?” Tommy asked, stunned. “But… you earned a full-ride. You were so _proud_ of that, Laurel. Your _parents_ were so proud. Ol-” He stopped, looking uncomfortable.

“Ollie was proud,” Laurel finished. “It’s okay, Tommy. You can say his name. And Sara’s. I’m not going to fly into a rage anymore.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m so sorry, Tommy, for the way I’ve acted. I just… I was so _angry_ and since I couldn’t take it out on them, I took it out on everyone else when I wasn’t burying it.”

Tommy relaxed slightly. “So, what are you going to do? Because you, Dinah Laurel Lance, are meant for more than flipping burgers or telemarketing.”

“I’ve applied to the police academy,” Laurel said, and Tommy’s eyebrows shot up. “Dad’s in such a bad place right now he has no ability to block my application, if he ever did in the first place.” She chuckled sourly. “Of course, he’ll hit the roof when he hears. Just like he’ll swear up a storm at me for letting you back into my life. But I’m going to anyways. You’re my best friend, Tommy, the only one I have left, and I need you in my life. If-If you’ll still _have_ me in yours, that is.”

“Of _course,_ I will, Laurel,” Tommy said as their orders arrived (beef and broccoli for Laurel and General Tso’s for Tommy). They thanked their server and waited for them to leave before continuing. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here for you. If you need someone to yell at, scream at, whatever…”

“I’m not going to do that anymore,” Laurel said, shame-faced. She had treated Tommy so horribly that first year after the _Gambit_ sank. “But I could use someone to be myself with, someone I didn’t have to put up an act for. I don’t know if I’d be welcome in Thea’s life, and you _are_ my last remaining best friend.”

“You’re my best friend, too, Laurel,” Tommy said, reaching across the table to take her hand. She allowed it since it wasn’t a romantic gesture. If things started moving in that direction then she would have to nip it in the bud, but she knew Tommy had taken a while to even admit he liked her as more than just the occasional romp. Something that _wouldn’t_ be happening this time around. “So, a cop, huh? Are you going to use those handcuffs-”

“Don’t even _say_ it, Merlyn,” Laurel said, but her lips twitched nonetheless as she started in on her beef and broccoli.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel took a deep breath as she sat in the waiting room outside of the office of Gail Percy, the Dean of Admissions at the University of Washington – Starling City. This was suddenly feeling much more real now that she was beginning to act on her decision to drop out of college and join the police academy. She comforted herself with the knowledge that since they were only about a month into the semester, all she would have to pay back was a couple of thousand dollars since she had been on a scholarship provided by the University of Washington. Of course, once that happened, she would only have about five thousand dollars to her name until she was accepted by the police academy. “Miss Lance?” She looked up from where she had been contemplating her hands and met the gaze of the Dean’s secretary. “Dean Percy will see you now.”

“Thanks,” Laurel said with a soft smile and stood, entering the dean’s office.

“Miss Lance, welcome,” Gail Percy, a handsome woman in her late fifties, said as she gestured to the seat in front of her desk. “What can I do for you?”

“This past year, I’ve been pretty much on automatic, ever since my sister and ex-boyfriend died on the _Queen’s Gambit_ ,” Laurel began. “The other day, I woke up around midnight and couldn’t get back to sleep. I got to thinking about what I really want to do with my life, and the truth is that while I did decide to attend law school, that wasn’t my first choice. My parents convinced me to attend college and become a lawyer, but my first choice was to join the police academy. I’ve decided to pursue my original goals and have applied to the police academy. I’m still waiting to hear back from them, but I’m pretty sure I’ll get accepted. As such, I need to talk about dropping my classes and paying back what I owe.”

“I see,” Dean Percy said after a moment. “Well, Miss Lance, I took a look at your records with us to get an understanding of who I was meeting. You are an exemplary student and at the top of your class. You have a very promising outlook on life if you continue on studying with us. It would be remiss of me not to encourage a student of your caliber to continue on, or at the very least to wait until you hear back for certain from the police academy. Surely you don’t want to end up flipping burgers or telemarketing because you dropped out and then the police academy refused to take you?”

Laurel worried her lower lip. On the one hand, she was certain she would be accepted into the police academy, but on the other hand, Dean Percy was right. She shouldn’t leap into this without having a back-up. If the police academy _didn’t_ take her, then she would _need_ to become a lawyer, though this time she would probably go directly to the D.A.’s office since then she’d have more access to the criminal databases through the D.A.’s own investigative branch. The D.A.’s office _had_ tried very hard to convince her to join them when she graduated in the last timeline, so she wouldn’t have to go out of her way to join them. “You’re right,” Laurel finally said. “I shouldn’t just leap into this without having a safety net. I’ll let you know the instant the police academy makes their decision.”

“Very good, Miss Lance,” Dean Percy said. “And I would encourage you to consider this carefully. By our records, you’re excelling in your courses and will most certainly have a promising career as a lawyer once you graduate. Do you really want to throw that away to become a police officer, racing after criminals all day?”

“My passion is justice, Dean Percy,” Laurel said. “So, the only job I could take as a lawyer that would indulge that passion would be with the D.A.’s office, and I’d be dealing with criminals then, too. I’m certain of what I want to do with my life, ma’am. I originally planned to be a cop, and I want to see if I can’t switch to the road not taken before it’s too late.”

“Well, I still encourage you to think about your future, Miss Lance, but in the end, the choice must be yours,” Dean Percy said. “Keep me updated. Currently, you will owe us about two and a half thousand dollars.”

“I can cover that,” Laurel said with a nod. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Good day, Miss Lance,” Dean Percy said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Regarding Quentin’s behavior: the 3x14 flashbacks proved Quentin was, at best, verbally, emotionally, and psychologically abusive to Laurel in the five years after the “Gambit” sank, and this caused Laurel to have an extremely low sense of self-worth that led her to be surprised that anyone would come for her when she was trapped in C.N.R.I. and continued throughout the series, to the point that she died believing she was not the love of Oliver’s life (which the Dominator crossover proved false, IMO).


	3. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just an FYI. I’m gonna be taking a long break from writing. I need it. I’m gonna go at least a week without writing and focus on relaxing: reading, playing video games, that sort of thing. Updates on this story will continue up until Chapter 10, which is what I’ve written up to. Afterward, expect a delay while I rebuild a lead.
> 
> Oh, and yes, I did change the title. I have a couple of other ideas that "Rise of the Black Canary" would be more suited to.

Nearly a week passed after Laurel had submitted her application to the police academy with no word on whether or not she was being accepted. For that entire time, Laurel worked on getting back into shape by going on daily walks and doing what exercises she could in her apartment: stomach crunches, push-ups, pull-ups on the bar inside of her closet, and yoga, something she had been doing before the _Gambit_ sank but let fall by the wayside. She hadn’t gotten into it again until she became Black Canary, since it left her more flexible and able to twist out of the grips of bad guys. She also began familiarizing herself with the culture of the current time period since she couldn’t remember _everything_ and she didn’t want to mention something that hadn’t happened yet when talking to people. She had also dyed her hair back to honey-blonde and, in preparation for entering the police academy, gotten it cut down to shoulder length since she remembered how often thugs had used her long hair as a weapon against her as Black Canary.

Finally, on October 5th, she received a phone call. “Laurel Lance,” she said as she picked up her phone.

“Miss Lance, this is Sergeant Cole with the Admissions Office at the police academy,” a man said on the other end. “We’ve gone over your application and have decided to approve it. You’ll receive a packet with all pertinent information in it by tomorrow, including the date and time you’re expected to start at the academy. Welcome to the S.C.P.D., Miss Lance.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said, smiling brilliantly and feeling a whole lot lighter. “I’ll be there.”

“Goodbye, Miss Lance,” Sergeant Cole said.

“Goodbye, Sergeant,” Laurel returned and hung up. She instantly dialed the office of the Dean of Admissions at the University of Washington.

“Dean Percy’s office,” said the secretary who picked up.

“Hi, this is Laurel Lance,” Laurel said. “I’m calling to confirm that I’ve been accepted into the police academy and will be dropping out. Dean Percy asked me to call and let you know.”

“Please hold a moment,” the secretary said and put her on hold.

A few moments later, the phone picked up. “Miss Lance, this is Dean Percy,” said the woman in question. “I see you’ve gotten confirmation. I don’t suppose there’s any way I can convince you to continue on with us?”

“No, ma’am,” Laurel said softly. “Like I said, my true passion is justice, and I can do more to accomplish that as a cop than as a lawyer.”

“Very well,” Dean Percy said. “You’ll need to come in and fill out some paperwork. Just in case you did get accepted, I ran the numbers. You’ll owe $2,578.50 to the University to replace what you’ve already spent this semester.”

“I’ll be able to pay that,” Laurel said with a nod. “Thank you, Dean Percy. I’ll be in this afternoon to fill out the paperwork, return my books, and everything else.”

“Very well, Miss Lance,” Dean Percy said. “We’ll see you this afternoon. Good day.”

“Goodbye, Dean Percy,” Laurel said and hung up. She needed to collect her books and other school-related items that would need returned. She would also need to make sure and bring her checkbook so she could write out a check to the university for what she owed. A small voice mentioned Tommy would do it for her if she asked, but she crushed that voice, not wanting to take advantage of Tommy as well as wanting to do this on her own, to succeed or fail on her own merits.

**_*DC*_ **

As promised, the packet containing all the pertinent information about her upcoming career arrived the next day, and Laurel sat down in her living room to go over it. She was to begin the police academy next week, she noted. But the thing that caught her attention was her starting yearly salary of $42,500. She did some quick calculations in her head and found that that meant she would have a monthly salary of $3,541. Laurel leaned back on her couch, going over everything in her head. Her apartment alone cost $2,500 because her father had insisted when she successfully argued her case about getting her own apartment when she was twenty-one that she get a place in a ‘safe’ neighborhood. Since she could afford to since she was on scholarship, Laurel hadn’t argued with her father.

But in the here and now, that was slapping her in the face. If she stayed in her current apartment, a good three-quarters of her check each month would be taken up by her rent, leaving her barely a thousand dollars for utilities (which weren’t included in the rent), Internet, cable, heat during the winter, car insurance, and most importantly _food_. She could give up Internet and cable if it came down to it, but her utilities ran close to a hundred dollars every month, heat during the winter was another fifty, her car insurance payments were a flat fee of $270, her insurance payments were similar, and since she couldn’t cook worth a damn outside of macaroni and cheese and a couple of other things, a fact her friends were always keen to remind her on, she averaged about $500 on food every month, if not more, most of it takeout. She had had a system while she was using scholarship funds and she had always worked a job to keep herself afloat except for the year after the _Gambit_ , aka this past year. Combine all of that with the fact she would need to craft a new uniform for her time as Black Canary, purchase a bike to use for patrol, and rent a storage locker or something to run her operation out of… that would probably cost about a thousand dollars more than what she was going to be earning. There was no way around it. She would have to move, and since this was the cheapest place in a ‘safe’ neighborhood, there was only one place to find somewhere else to live: the Glades.

Despite herself, Laurel shivered. She couldn’t help it. While she earnestly wanted to help the people there, fight for them, she couldn’t deny that having grown up downtown and then lived here, a decent ways away from the crime-ridden district, she had an inborn sense of dread when she thought of living there, because while she knew most of the people there were good, honest people who wouldn’t hurt anyone and just wanted to live their lives, the criminal element was at an all-time high thanks to Merlyn and his actions. But she really didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere in the city she could get affordable housing _except_ the Glades. She would have to keep _that_ quiet from Quentin for as long as possible, she decided, which meant she would have to ask someone else for help moving, and right now, she had only one friend that she could count on.

Laurel pulled out her cell phone and selected Tommy’s contact. “Hey, Laurel,” Tommy said brightly as he picked up. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, Tommy, I’ve been good,” Laurel said with a smile. She couldn’t help it. Tommy’s tone had had a smile to it and she could practically picture that boyish smile of his. Even if she held no romantic feelings for him, he was still her best male friend and he had an infectiously good personality when he wasn’t allowing his doubts, fears, or even jealousy control him. “But I’m calling because I might need some help. I got into the police academy.”

“Congratulations,” Tommy said sincerely. “So, what do you need help for? Need me to buy you your equipment or something? Maybe cover your fees for dropping out of college?”

“No, no, I got that taken care of yesterday and the Academy provides your equipment,” Laurel said. “No, it’s… Well, it’s like this. I told you and Ollie about how I got my place. Remember? How Dad wanted me to live in a safe neighborhood?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Tommy said.

“Well, the problem is, this place costs $2,500,” Laurel said. “My starting monthly salary for the first five years that I’m a cop will be $3,541 or thereabouts. Almost all of my check will be gone in one go, and that’s before I get to utilities, heat during the winter, insurance, car insurance, food… as it is, I’m going to have to give up Internet and cable permanently because I just can’t afford the prices in Starling City. I’m gonna have to move out. I can’t afford my place anymore. It’s just… there’s only one place in the city I’ll be able to get affordable housing.”

“The Glades,” Tommy whispered.

“Yeah,” Laurel said quietly, knowing this must be hard for Tommy. Out of all of her friends, Tommy had every reason to fear the Glades. They had taken his mother from him, and now he was being told his last remaining friend, one of those who knew him best beneath the playboy veneer, would need to move there.

“You don’t have to move, Laurel,” Tommy said. “If you’re that worried, I can cover your rent.”

“I appreciate the offer, Tommy,” Laurel said softly, “but you know I could never accept that status quo for long.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy said after a moment, sighing. “You love your independence. You always have. And its something Ollie and I both loved about you. You saw what you wanted and you went for it. Well, if I can’t get you to let me pay your rent, then I’m at least paying the movers since I’m guessing you’re keeping this quiet from Detective Lance.”

“He’d freak out if he knew I was going to be moving into the Glades,” Laurel said. “As it is, he’s going to lose it when he finds out I’m training to be a cop. Anyways, if you really want to help out there, I’d be glad for it. What money I have left after paying what I owe to the university is just enough to keep myself fed and pay first month’s rent and a down payment on a new place, even if it’s a cheap one. I’ll take a look at places in the Glades today. I also need to decide what to do about my excess furniture. I doubt a place in the Glades is gonna have as much space as this apartment.” Laurel’s current apartment had two 12-by-12 rooms (the second of which had served as her ‘home office’ until Thea had moved in with her following the death of Ra’s al Ghul), a full bathroom, a full kitchen, and her living room. “So, I’m probably gonna have to cut it down to the necessities. Bookshelf and books, a couch, my TV and stand, kitchen table and chair, nightstand and bed… but everything else is probably gonna end up being too much. I figure I could give the excess to a charity.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Tommy said soberly. “Need any help finding a place?”

“No, I got it,” Laurel said with a sad smile. “I’ll make a list and decide based on what’s available nearby. Cuz I’m pretty sure my car’s gas intake is about to increase just for getting to the academy every day, much less getting food.” Laurel sighed. “And I’m probably gonna have learn to cook something other than mac and cheese and ramen, because I can’t be doing takeout all the time on a cop’s salary.”

“Uh, should I warn the fire department?” Tommy asked half-jokingly.

“Very funny, Tommy,” Laurel said. “I’m not that bad.”

“Laurel, need I remind you of the time you decided not to wait for your Dad to wake up and tried to cook pancakes for the four of us?” Tommy asked. “I still remember those flames and the poor, poor pancake batter.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Laurel said. “Besides, I was _ten_. I’ve gotten better since then.”

“If you say so,” Tommy said.

“Anyways, I should get to work finding a place in the Glades,” Laurel said with a sigh. “I’ll call and let you know when I need help on that front. And thanks again for offering to pay for the movers. If I did that with what I have left, it would be a very _tight_ time my first few weeks in the Glades.”

“You’re my friend, Laurel,” Tommy said seriously. “I’ll always help you.”

“I know you will, Tommy,” Laurel said, closing her eyes as she remembered finding Tommy dead in C.N.R.I., spotting Oliver’s hooded alter ego leaving. Tommy had come for her. He had thought she was worth coming to help. Ollie had, too, for a while, anyways, before he became enamored with Felicity Smoak. “I should go. Bye.”

“Bye, Laurel,” Tommy said, and they hung up.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel braced herself as she entered Tapster’s Tavern, her father’s favorite bar. It was also a favorite cop bar, but right now, her father was the only one in there. The others would be here later on, she knew, but her father was always here from first to last call these days, though usually Hilton stayed with him once he arrived to make sure Quentin got home. Her father wasn’t going to be very happy with her and, considering this was only a year after the _Gambit_ , Quentin was at his worst. But he was her father, and he loved her, just like she loved him, and whatever he said, no matter how cruel and bitter, it was because he was drunk, not because he actually believed the things that he was saying.

Laurel looked around for her father and spotted him in a corner booth. She made her way there and slipped into the seat across from him. “Hey, Daddy,” she said quietly as a server came up to them. “Nothing for me,” she added, looking at the server. “I’m just here to talk to my dad.” While her current body was not that of an alcoholic, the simple reality was that that sort of addiction was just as much a mental one as a physical one and she wouldn’t allow herself even the closest of calls. Which reminded her, she would need to find a group to attend so that she could be ‘officially’ sober. She needed that support network to remain strong enough to avoid the drink.

“This is her,” Quentin grumbled to the server. “The daughter who lived… the one who got her sister killed.” Laurel flinched slightly, seeing Quentin was already in fine form, and the server gave her a sympathetic look before backing away, leaving them to talk. “What d’you want, Laurel?”

“I thought you should hear it from me,” Laurel said. “I-I’ve dropped out of college.”

“So?” Quentin asked, entirely apathetic as he took a drink, and Laurel tried not to be too hurt by the fact that her father didn’t seem to care she was dropping out of college, something she had worked hard to get a scholarship for. “If you’re here looking for help with rent or somethin’, I can’t help ya. You’re on your own.” Quentin’s speech was slurred, so both the ‘you’re’ and ‘your’ sounded like ‘yer’ or ‘yar’.

“I’m not here for help, Dad,” Laurel said. “I came to tell you that I dropped out of college because I got accepted into the police academy.”

“No,” Quentin said, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t. You’re smart, Laurel, most of the time. You _know_ you can’t be a cop. You don’t have what it takes. Besides, I made sure you could never be accepted.”

“Well, whatever you did wasn’t enough,” Laurel said. “I got accepted. I start next week.”

“Do you got some kind of death wish, is that it?” Quentin asked suddenly, voice rising. “Do you got some kind of death wish because you got Sara killed by whoring around with Queen and Merlyn?” Laurel flinched at this but refused to react further, instead telling herself that he was drunk, that he didn’t mean it, that he never meant the things that he said to her while he was drunk.

“I’m pursuing the path that I wanted to take in the first place,” Laurel said calmly. “And you can’t stop me.”

“I’ll damn well try!” Quentin snarled before standing and heading for the door. Laurel watched him go, eyed his half-finished glass of whiskey, then closed her eyes and pushed away from the booth herself, unwilling to risk being here for another minute before she ended up breaking her two years of soberness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> According to an official NYC website, the starting wage for a rookie cop in the N.Y.P.D. is $42,500. I decided to go with what the N.Y.P.D. pay their rookies since the only thing I could find for Washington State was the ‘average’, which is usually for cops who have been at it a while. Laurel’s apartment is a pretty nice place with at least two bedrooms (since Thea started living with her after Season 3), a living room, a full kitchen, presumably a full bathroom, and a living room. That’ll cost a pretty penny since the Washington State cost of living is fairly high from what I can tell.
> 
> I’m just warning everyone right now: Quentin is in for a really rough road in this story and he’s not going to get any better, at least not for a long time.
> 
> On another note, the name of the bar is a Shout-Out to “Dragon Age: Origins”, where Tapster’s Tavern was located in the Orzammar Commons.


	4. The Glades

Dinah Laurel Lance looked around her new, tiny apartment. The front room and the kitchen shared the same space as you walked in. Each ‘room’, separated only by a small divider that ended halfway across the room to allow you to move from one room to the other, was about ten feet by six feet. Her bedroom was about ten feet by eight feet. She at least had a full bathroom. There was no heating or air conditioning, so she would have to get a space heater before winter set in and buy a ground fan for the summer months. Her television stand with TV was set against one wall with her couch set against the opposite wall. Her bookcase was at the end of the couch. In her bedroom, which shared a narrow ‘hallway’ with her bathroom, she had been forced to downsize her bed to a twin and, since she couldn’t afford to buy a new frame as well as mattress and box springs, her bed was resting directly on the ground. Her nightstand and alarm clock were set nearby. Overall, this was a very humble little abode.

She turned to the movers who had just finished moving her couch into the apartment and smiled. “Thank you for doing this,” she said. “And thank you for taking the rest to Salvation Thriftway.”

“Happy to, ma’am,” said one of the men, accepting a check from Tommy, who was looking around soberly at the place his remaining best friend would now be living. “Keep us in mind next time you plan on moving somewhere.”

“I will,” Laurel said with a nod. The men left the apartment, and Tommy shut the door behind them, then turned to face Laurel, who was standing in the middle of her apartment, about three feet on either side of her standing between the television and the couch. “So, it’s a little cramped, but I can make it work.”

“Cramped?” Tommy asked. “Laurel, to call this place a shoebox would be a compliment. I feel claustrophobic and I’m just visiting. How much are you paying for this place?”

“About $850,” Laurel said. “Which is good. Some landlords in these tenements charge a thousand for holes in the wall. I should know. I went to a few while I was trying to find a place.”

“And this neighborhood… Laurel, promise me that you’ll be careful living here,” Tommy begged. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me, Tommy,” Laurel said, coming up to him and hugging him. He hugged her back, and she pulled away, giving him a bright smile. “This place may not be the best, but it was the best of the worst. At least I have a full bathroom. Almost every other place I checked out only had a communal bathroom that everyone on the floor used.” Tommy turned green at that. “Yeah. So, really, this was the best option. All the other options were either holes in the wall or studio apartments.”

“I suppose if this was the best you could do,” Tommy said with a sigh. “I just worry, Laurel. You’re my last remaining friend. Everyone else I’m friendly with… they don’t know _me_. They know the guy who knows how to have a good time, not the guy who worries about the people he cares about.”

“I know you’re worried, Tommy, but I promise you, I’m going to be fine,” Laurel said, taking his hand and pulling him to her couch, where they sat down. “Now, come on, tell me what’s going on in your life.”

“Well… I guess the biggest thing is that I haven’t given up,” Tommy said. Laurel raised an eyebrow. “On Ollie. On Sara. On Mr. Queen. I haven’t given up on them. I’m gonna keep searching for them, Laurel. I know even Mrs. Queen has given up, but I can’t. Ollie might as well be my brother. Mr. Queen was the only real father I had. Sara is one of the only people who knows the _real_ me. So, I’m gonna keep searching for them. Dad thinks I’m being stupid, but so far, he hasn’t stopped me from paying people to search for them.”

“I see,” Laurel said softly. She hadn’t really paid much attention to what Tommy was doing in the last timeline until after she started working at C.N.R.I. and let him back into her life. She knew that by then he had given up, but she didn’t know why he had given up. She had just accepted he had, like everyone else, and that was that. “Well, for what it’s worth… I hope they’re okay, too, Tommy. I want them to be alive. I know it might seem surprising, given everything that went down, but… Ollie was my boyfriend. Sara was my sister. I want them to be alive. Mind, I might just slap them both when I see them for doing what they did, and things might be tense for a while, but… it’s Ollie and Sara. I miss them. So… keep me updated?”

“Sure,” Tommy said with a smile, and Laurel smiled back. “So, what kind of housewarming party do you want to do?”

“I don’t think I can really afford one,” Laurel remarked. “Besides… I’ve decided to stop drinking. Seeing what Dad’s become… I don’t ever want to be like he is, Tommy.”

“Alright, so, no drinking around you,” Tommy said with a nod. “That discounts inviting anyone over, then. But hey, what about just ordering a pizza or something? I’ll buy if that’s a concern.”

“I suppose a pizza sounds good,” Laurel said agreeably. “Mario’s?”

“Of course,” Tommy said with a grin. “I figure half olive and mushroom for you, half olive and sausage for me.”

“Alright,” Laurel said. Tommy pulled out his cell phone and ordered the pizza pretty quickly and was informed that it would be about an hour before the pizza would arrive due to traffic volume and the fact that the address was in the Glades. “I guess it’s a good thing that I’m gonna be trying to learn to cook,” Laurel said after Tommy told her what the pizza place had said. “I don’t think I could handle waiting an hour for my food all of the time, especially if I get home late. Some places might not even be open.”

“This really sucks,” Tommy said with a sigh. “You sure this is really what you want, Laurel? You’ve had to move out of your apartment that had heat and air conditioning into this little, tiny place which has neither of those things, you’re gonna have to wait an hour for your food every time you order something unless there’s some restaurant in the Glades that delivers and meets your standards, and you’re going to be living in the most dangerous part of the city as a _cop_. Is this really what you want?”

“Yes, Tommy,” Laurel said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I really do want this. If I’m honest, doing this, bringing people to justice, it’s _always_ been something that I’ve wanted. I let myself be talked out of it by Dad and into attending college. I know, I know. I’m smart and I could be so much more with a college degree. But this is what I really want, Tommy. Besides, it’s not permanent. Once I’ve been in the service five years, my pay will nearly double, and that’s not even counting the pay bump I would get if I made detective.” _Not that I plan to ever do that,_ Laurel added to herself silently. “But then again, even Dad’s place is pretty crappy, and he’s been a detective for over a decade.”

“I just don’t like the idea of you being in danger all the time,” Tommy said morosely.

“I can take care of myself, Tommy, but thank you,” Laurel said. “I’ll be fine. I know how to defend myself and soon enough I’ll have a gun that I keep with me at all times. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m going to,” Tommy said pointedly.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel entered the Wildcat Gym with some apprehension and no small amount of guilt gnawing at her. In the last timeline, she had asked Ted Grant to help them fight Daniel Brickwell, bring the Glades back from the brink, and Brick had beat him to death. The ambulance had just taken too long to get there for Ted after Ollie had taken down Brick. While Laurel wouldn’t be reaching out to Ted as far as vigilantism was concerned, unwilling to risk getting him killed a second time, he was one of the only people she knew would give her a chance to train, and she _needed_ to train, to get back into shape. Of course, since she didn’t officially ‘know’ him, she tapped the nearest man on the shoulder. “Could you point me to the owner?” she asked.

The man eyed her up and down a moment in a speculative fashion, then pointed. “Ted’s back there, putting Jack through his paces,” he said.

“Thanks,” Laurel said with a smile. The man nodded and smiled back before turning back to his punching bag, and Laurel headed back to where Ted was training with a young man who was pummeling a punching bag of his own.

“You’re pushing the bag, not punching it,” she heard Ted say as she approached. “Remember to use your hips. That’s where the power comes from.” Ted noticed Laurel standing nearby and clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Keep working. I got someone to talk to.” The man nodded and Ted walked over. “Can I help you?”

“You’re the owner?” Laurel asked clarifyingly.

“Yup,” Ted said.

“My name’s Laurel Lance,” Laurel introduced herself. “I just moved to the Glades and I’m looking for a gym to get back into shape. Someone recommended your gym. I was hoping you’d be able to take me on.”

“Why exactly are you moving _to_ the Glades?” Ted asked. “Most people are aiming to move out.”

“My last place was too expensive for my new career choice,” Laurel said. “I needed a cheaper place, and the only place to get housing like that was the Glades.”

“And your career choice is?” Ted asked leadingly.

“I’m going to be starting at the police academy in less than a week,” Laurel said. “And while they have their own gym and I’m certainly going to make use of that, I need somewhere I can train my boxing.”

“Well, let’s see what you’re capable of,” Ted said, leading her to a bag and snagging a pair of boxing gloves, handing them to her. She put them on and Ted positioned himself behind the bag. “Alright, Laurel. Let’s see what you got.” Laurel nodded and began punching the bag, drawing on everything Ted had taught her in the last timeline and which she had kept up with by sparring with Nyssa, Dig, and Ollie. She went on like this for five minutes, and then Ted said, “Okay, that’s enough.” Laurel, already sweating since she really was out of shape, stopped and pulled off the gloves. “Well, you know what you’re doing, I’ll give you that. But you’ve really let yourself go. You’re not hitting as hard as someone with your skill should be and your aim is a little rusty.”

“I haven’t done much working out in the past year,” Laurel said. “My boyfriend and sister… they died last year. And even though I’m angry at them, I was also grieving, and I was just going through the ropes of living, the most life I showed being in my college courses.”

“What were you studying?” Ted asked. “And did you have to leave school? Is that why you became a cop?”

“I was studying to be a lawyer, and I had a full-ride scholarship,” Laurel said. “but my real passion is justice, and I can do more for the city as a cop than I can as an attorney.” _And even more as the Black Canary,_ Laurel added in her mind.

Ted, for his part, was examining the woman who had come in. She knew how to fight. He could tell that much. She had had training from an expert. Her form was off, and she had started sweating almost as soon as she started, indicating that even though she was slender that she was also very out of shape, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find if she was all skin and bones under those clothes. Not that he had any intentions towards her, nor would he allow the other men who trained here to get any ideas in their heads in that regard if he accepted her as a client. But most of all, she had a spark of life in her eye when she was punching the bag, a spark that wasn’t quite there when she talked about becoming a cop, but appeared again after she trailed off, like she was thinking of doing something else to pursue her passion. She had lost something, this woman. She had lost something or someone and she wanted to get even. She wanted to be ready for anything. She wanted to be able to fight back against the kinds of people who made others’ lives hell. He was looking at a woman who had the spark in her to be a vigilante. Ted had recently stopped living that life after Isaac killed that man before leaving town.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows.

“No, no, you just remind me a bit of myself, is all,” Ted said. “Alright, Laurel. Membership fee is twenty dollars a month. Now, just one question: red or black?”

“Black,” Laurel said. “Definitely black.”

“Alright,” Ted said. “But… look, don’t take this the wrong way. But most of my clients are guys, and you’re a very beautiful woman. I don’t want any problems in my place. So I’d like to arrange for us to have our training sessions in the mornings or evenings, whichever is better for you.”

“I can do either or both,” Laurel said. “And I understand. I wouldn’t want to risk anything happening, either. I’m not quite over what happened to my boyfriend.”

“Alright, then come back later tonight, about five or six, and we’ll have our first official session,” Ted said.

“Thanks,” Laurel said with a beaming smile, and after giving Ted a twenty dollar bill to pay her first month’s membership, she turned and left, ignoring the appreciative looks some men were giving her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> When J.R. Ramirez, Ted’s actor, signed onto another show as a regular, I am *pretty sure* that the “Arrow” showrunners said something about him dying off-screen to explain why he didn’t come back ever.


	5. The Academy

Dinah Laurel Lance sat down at her kitchen table in front of a bowl of Corn Flakes, which she poured honey in a spiral pattern over before pouring in the milk and returning the milk to her refrigerator, which was _only_ a refrigerator. She had no freezer, so the option of buying a lot of frozen meals, even healthy ones, was out. She would simply have to learn how to cook if she was going to survive on a cop’s salary. She would need to start simple, things like mac and cheese, ramen, sandwiches, eggs, and build up to more complicated things like pancakes, spaghetti, lasagna, and more. She mused that it couldn’t be _that_ hard to learn how to cook. Oliver had managed to become ‘master chef’ in five months of playing house with Felicity. Then again, he had had nothing to do but learn how to cook when Felicity was running Palmer Technologies or helping the team in secret. Not that she was bitter…

Alright, maybe she was a little bitter. A small, selfish part of her had wished that when Oliver decided to leave Starling City behind after defeating Ra’s, he would have turned to her and asked her to come with him. She knew in her heart that if he had asked, if he had genuinely wanted her company while he learned who he was now that the Arrow identity had been taken from him, she would have agreed in an instant, because it was _Ollie_. Instead, he had turned to Felicity and asked her to go with him. Laurel had buried her hurt by helping Thea through her struggles with what Ra’s had done, silently cursing the fact that Oliver had left them both to deal with the fallout on their own. She had put on a good face, of course, when the time came that they needed his help, but she had _not_ been very happy with the fact that he had run off to play house. And again, a small, selfish part of her pointed out that it wasn’t so much that he was playing house with someone as that he was playing house with someone who wasn’t _her_.

Laurel hadn’t let herself think about it much, about when she died, but now, with nothing but time on her hands before she had to get ready, she thought about those final few minutes, how she had felt her energy begin to slip away but thought it was just tiredness from the drugs and instead focused on unburdening herself, not wanting there to be any further secrets between she and Ollie. She thought back on his reaction to the fact that she had kept the photo she had given him on the docks the day he went on the _Gambit_ , the photo he had returned to her the day he left Starling after Tommy’s funeral. His voice… his face… the look in his eyes… Then she thought of their interactions after Felicity had broken up with him, when she had started spending more time with him again now that she didn’t need to watch herself or worry about Felicity thinking she was going to ‘steal’ her man (never mind that she would never do something like that, having experienced that feeling first-hand). All of it together made something remarkably clear. She had been wrong. Oliver… he had still loved her there, at the end, even if he had been afraid to say it. His willingness to stay by her side, when he hadn’t even done that for Felicity, his tenderness with her, his reaction the photo, the way they had trained together with increasing frequency… he still loved her.

Laurel blinked back tears as she realized this and realized that that meant Ollie would’ve taken her death hard, just like he had taken Tommy’s. Considering Tommy’s had driven him to stop killing because Tommy had considered him a murderer, Laurel worried what her murder at the hands of Darhk would’ve driven Oliver to. He might well have abandoned his promise to Tommy in the face of losing her, the woman he loved, and returned to a grimmer and more ruthless persona: the Hood. Only this time, he probably wouldn’t have been offering second chances to make things right like he did as the Hood, not as broken as he would have been. Laurel vowed that she would be ready for Darhk if it came to that again so that Oliver would never have to suffer losing her again, so he would never return to the darkness. She was going to have a hard enough time bringing him out of the darkness when he returned.

Laurel sighed as she finished her cereal. Ollie and thoughts of him needed to wait for the night time, when she could curl up and have a good cry. Right now, she needed to get ready for her first day of training. 

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel, now dressed in her training uniform, entered the classroom that her information packet had designated and found a group of about thirty others in the room, most of them men with about ten women in the group. Laurel quickly slipped into a seat in the front row, deciding not to socialize too much right at the beginning even if it meant she appeared aloof. She didn’t want to give any of the men the wrong impression and men in their twenties think a woman is talking to them for only one reason. She wasn’t the only woman doing this. In fact, the women were in one group and the men in another, all talking to members of their own sex quietly. Laurel heard someone slip into the seat next to her, then heard a vaguely familiar voice ask, “Laurel? Laurel Lance, is that you?”

Laurel turned in her seat to face the speaker, and a surprised but happy smile crossed her face. “McKenna Hall,” she said with a grin. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the last time we saw each other was the night that Oliver punched that paparazzi,” McKenna said.

“Yeah, that wasn’t his best moment,” Laurel said with a nod. “I would say he was drunk, but that’s no excuse.” She ignored the part of her that said that she shouldn’t be excusing her father’s behavior because he was drunk if that was the case. “So, why are you here?”

“That’s kind of personal,” McKenna said. “Swap stories?”

“Sure,” Laurel said with a nod.

“My brother, he died of a drug overdose,” McKenna said. “Heroin. The dealer was never found. I know it’s unlikely I’ll be the one to find him, but I need to do something so that someone doesn’t suffer the same kind of loss my family did. So, I applied for the academy and was accepted. You?”

“Becoming a cop was actually my first choice, but Dad talked me out of it, not to mention implied he would make sure I couldn’t be accepted,” Laurel said. “So, I settled for going to college and becoming a lawyer since that was the only other way I could indulge in my passion for justice. Then, of course, the _Gambit_ sank last year, taking Ollie and Sara with it, and something inside me just… broke. I was just going through the motions this past year. Then the day of the anniversary… I just woke up. I woke up just after midnight and couldn’t get back to sleep. I thought long and hard about what I wanted from my life. The next day, I applied for the academy. It took about a week, but then I got the call. Dropped out of college that day, and I’ve spent the past week moving into a new apartment since I couldn’t afford my old one. My Dad’s going to freak out when he finds out where I’m living.”

“The Glades?” McKenna asked softly.

“Yeah,” Laurel said. “You, too?”

“Eventually,” McKenna said. “Still living at home right now. But I gotta get out on my own.”

Unknown to either of them, one of the men had broken off from the rest. His name was Derek Venturi, and he was convinced that he was very much God’s gift to women and that any woman would feel privileged to be dating him. But he wouldn’t take any ordinary woman, oh, no. He wanted someone special, and he quickly noted two women who were sitting down already. Both were very beautiful, one of them of Indian descent while the other was Caucasian. While he could definitely see himself dating the former if absolutely necessary, he found he preferred the latter, and so, after dosing himself in an unction of charm, he moved in for the kill. “Hello, there,” he said, walking up to the two women as they spoke quietly to each other.

Laurel turned in her seat to face the interloper, noted the look in his eyes as he made no mistake of his eyeing her up and down, and tried not to frown. “Yes?” Laurel asked politely.

“I just thought I’d come introduce myself,” he said. “Derek Venturi.” He held out a hand and Laurel cautiously took it, only for him to turn her hand upward and kiss her knuckles. McKenna’s eyebrows raised while Laurel couldn’t help the frown that marred her features now, which puzzled Derek, because usually women _liked_ being treated like ladies by him. “And you are?”

“Laurel Lance,” Laurel said evenly. “This is McKenna Hall, an old acquaintance. We were just catching up.”

“Must be nice to already have a friend,” Derek said. “But you should probably have more friends. What are you doing tonight?”

“Resting,” Laurel said plainly. “And I’ll nip whatever else you’re gonna say in the bud right now. I’m not interested in seeing anyone romantically, Derek. But I appreciate the interest.” She waved him off and he backed away for now, already planning his next entanglement with Laurel, noting that she seemed to be the kind to play hard to get. That was alright. He liked playing these games because he _always_ won. Some just took longer to convince that he was the one for them (at least until he got tired of them talking since he could think of other uses for their mouths). Laurel turned to McKenna and lowered her voice. “That guy feels slimy. What do you say to us looking after each other while we’re here?”

“Sounds good to me,” McKenna said with a nod. “I certainly wouldn’t want to deal with that guy on my own. Better to have someone backing me up if he decides to come onto me. I’m sure you’d like some back-up if he did the same with you.”

“Definitely,” Laurel said quietly.

A uniformed officer entered the room. “Alright, everyone, settle down and take your seats…”

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel pulled her car up down the block from her apartment, the closest spot she could find, and shut off the engine, reflecting on her first day of training. Most of it had been simple stuff, like testing their knowledge of the law, which Laurel had excelled at thanks to the fact that she had been an Assistant District Attorney in another life, and also tested on whether they knew how to properly care for a firearm. Laurel admitted she hadn’t done too well, there. The only firearm she had ever owned was the shotgun she bought after facing two home invasions with the Triad and Cyrus Vanch, and she hadn’t learned how to maintain that gun since she hardly used it. But here, she was meant to know how to properly maintain her weapon so that it would never fail her. They would practice this every day, their instructor told them, so that they knew how to do it blindfolded if necessary. Laurel got the impression that wasn’t a metaphor and that they would be blindfolded at some point to see if they could do it.

They had also had a session in the gym at the academy to establish their baseline. While Laurel was not quite in the shape that she had been before her death, she was in decent shape for someone her age who hadn’t made exercising a priority, and she had been doing yoga religiously, so she was _very_ flexible, which had had the men in the group eyeing her appreciatively, Derek Venturi even more so than before. She really hoped that guy didn’t become a problem but she had a feeling he would. With any luck, they would be doing psych evals or something and he’d be pegged as a narcissist, because that’s what he came across like to her, and a sexist one at that. He only thought of women in one way, it was clear in how he joked quietly with the men when she and the other women were showing the extent of their capabilities.

Laurel froze as she felt something hard and round shove into her ribs. “Turn around slowly, bitch, or I’ll put a hole in you,” a man’s gravelly voice said. “Hands where I can see them.” Laurel, not wanting to get shot, raised her hands slightly, trembling, and turned slowly, her ankle twisting slightly and causing her to stumble. The gun that was being held on her dug into her side as the man said, “Careful!” She finished turning around and found herself face-to-face with a man in a ski mask. “Cash, credit cards, jewelry,” the man demanded, holding out a bag.

“I-I don’t have any credit cards,” Laurel stammered, shakily opening her purse. “No jewelry on me, either. But-But I have fifty dollars.” She pulled the money out of her wallet with a trembling hand and held it out to the man. “Go on. Take it. I promise I won’t scream.”

“If you do, it’ll be the last sound you ever make,” the man said, stepping closer and putting the gun right up against her cheek as his other hand came up and closed around the two twenties and two fives. Then he walloped her in the side of the face, sending her spinning to the ground with a yelp of pain, and ran off. Laurel held a hand to her cheek, which was stinging something fierce from the attack, and moved to her apartment. She took out her keys and slid the key into the lock, turning, and frowning when she didn’t feel the lock click backwards. Then she remembered; she had been in such a rush this morning to get to Ted’s before her first day of training at the academy that she hadn’t thought to lock her door. She pushed it open and felt a dead weight settle in her stomach at the sight of her missing television. Shutting the door and locking it behind her, she quickly searched her apartment. Television, coffee pot, microwave, laptop, even her damned alarm clock were all gone.

Laurel returned to her front room and sat down on her couch, giving a sigh. She pulled out her phone to call the police and report the crime, not that it would do any good. She knew from talking to her father how often people never got back the things that were stolen from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Personally, I think Laurel is intuitive enough that if she had time to consider Oliver’s actions on her last night of life, she would realize that she was wrong, that she was still the love of his life. And I think, selfless as she is, Laurel *would* have been bitter about Oliver running off to play house with Felicity while she and Thea dealt with the fallout of Ra’s’ attack (both on Thea and on the city). But that might just be my own dislike of Felicity shining through.
> 
> Laurel has moved into a very dangerous neighborhood and that needed to be shown. Her getting mugged basically on her front step followed by finding out she’s been robbed because she forgot to lock her doors is meant to be a rude awakening for her that she really is in the bad part of town now.


	6. Flashback

Dinah Laurel Lance entered the police academy the next day, having taken special care to lock her apartment up this morning so that she wouldn’t return home to find that her furniture had been taken, as well. She entered the mess hall, where she had arranged to meet McKenna and which also served breakfast, something which she would take advantage of to keep her food bill down for the time being, and quickly got a tray. Today it was rubbery pancakes and scrambled eggs, but it was _food_ and she couldn’t be picky. She also grabbed a Styrofoam cup of coffee and headed to the table where McKenna was waiting, already eating. “Morning, McKenna,” Laurel said as she slipped into the seat across from McKenna.

“Morning, Laurel,” McKenna said. She frowned, seeing the bruise on Laurel’s cheek. “What happened?”

“Huh?” Laurel asked, confused. McKenna tapped her own cheek. “Oh. Right. That. Well, I kind of got mugged when I went home last night. Then I found out I’d been burgled and all my electronics stolen. It was a real red letter evening.”

“Oh, God, Laurel, I’m so sorry,” McKenna said sympathetically. “That must have been horrible.”

“It was,” Laurel said. “I mean, I knew that the Glades were bad, that I would face some pretty bad stuff, but it’s one thing to ‘know’ it and another to _experience_ it, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” McKenna said. “I’m certainly not looking forward to moving out on my own since I’ll be going into the same kind of situation.”

“I’d offer to get an apartment with you, but I’m really a private person,” Laurel said apologetically. She couldn’t afford to have a roommate who was trained to ask the hard questions, especially if she got banged up pretty bad on patrol one night, as had happened a couple of times during her tenure as Black Canary in the last timeline. “I’m sure you’ll find your footing, though. I know I’m going to have to.”

“Thanks,” McKenna said.

Before either woman could say anything further, Derek Venturi popped up next to Laurel, holding a paper cup from Starbucks. “Hey, Laurel, I got you a latte, figured you might want to wake up,” he said genially, holding it out to her.

Laurel, for her part, smiled patiently and said, “I appreciate the thought, Derek, but I’m a straight-up coffee girl. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, though.” She turned back to McKenna and they started chatting, leaving Derek to walk away, disgruntled. He tossed the latte in a garbage can and wondered what the hell was wrong with that Lance girl. Why wouldn’t she give him a chance?

**_*DC*_ **

“Alright, cadets, you’re here to learn hand-to-hand, in case any perps get a little rough with you and you can’t get to your gun,” the trainer said to Laurel and her fellow cadets. “Now, some of you might already have training in self-defense, maybe even martial arts. But you still need to learn this because this is how _we_ take down suspects and it’s been proven to work, no matter who’s attacking us. First things first: we need an assessment of your current skills so we know what we’re working with, then we’ll start you on the basic training. We’ll call you up, one at a time, and then you’ll fight Sergeant Barnes here, whose volunteered to help out today.”

Laurel was a little nervous about this. She hadn’t been in a serious fight since-since the prison, and she was worried about flashbacks to her time as a vigilante in the last timeline. She was a little nervous about showing her hand, too, then reasoned with herself that while she remembered everything she had been taught by Ted and Nyssa which Oliver had helped her refine, she wasn’t in the same shape she had been when she was fighting crime as Black Canary and therefore couldn’t take advantage of those moves, at least not to their fullest extent. She watched as her fellow cadets were called up one-by-one, in alphabetical order, waiting for her turn. Finally, the trainer said, “Lance, Dinah,” and she started.

“I actually go by Laurel,” she told the trainer as she stepped forward and took her place on the mat. She assumed a stance Nyssa had taught her that she had been told suited someone of her size and build, and Sergeant Barnes assumed his own stance. Laurel waited, because Nyssa had taught her to _never_ make the first move, to allow the enemy to show you _their_ skill before you showed them yours, lull them into a false sense of security or superiority.

Sergeant Barnes finally made the first move, throwing a right hook. Softly, of course, since this _was_ training, but still a right hook. Laurel brought up her left arm to block it the way Ted had showed her and kept her guard up as she began circling the sergeant and he did the same, looking surprised. Laurel ignored the surprise and the murmurs of her fellow cadets, sinking into familiarity of training. She began throwing a few punches and kicks, the sergeant blocking each of them and throwing his own. Then it happened. The sergeant managed a lucky blow to her ribs, something that she should’ve been able to brush off as it had happened many times before, but the instant she felt pressure on her ribs, she flashed back to the prison. She began to hyperventilate, lowering her guard and backing away from the sergeant, who straightened, looking concerned. He approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Cadet Lance, are you alright?” he asked.

“I-I just remembered a bad dream, is all,” Laurel said, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing slowly calming down. “I’m good. I can keep going.”

“We’ve got a good idea of what you’re capable of, Cadet Lance,” the trainer said. “But whatever this dream you had is clearly still affecting you. I’m going to suggest you go see the on-staff psychologist this afternoon. I’ll call ahead after class is over so they know to expect you.”

“Okay,” Laurel said with a nod, knowing she probably _did_ need to talk to someone even if she couldn’t tell them the truth and would have to frame it as a dream (though she definitely wouldn’t be mentioning she was a vigilante in the ‘dream’). She could say she had it during law school, that she had been an A.D.A. in the dream and a riot broke out. It wouldn’t be necessarily a lie, either. There had been that riot caused by Brodeur’s man in Iron Heights where he tried to kill her and Declan. She still remembered how he had pushed her against that chain-link fence and then thrown her on the ground, his hands closing around her throat, cutting off her air supply. She closed her eyes and shook her head, focusing on her breathing again. In truth, there was a lot of things that happened over those three and a half years that Ollie had been back that she should’ve talked to someone about but hadn’t. But now it was beginning to affect her work, and she couldn’t have that. So, she would see the psychologist.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel entered the psychologist’s office. “Laurel, take a seat,” Dr. Otis Lundberg said genially, gesturing to a seat across from him. Laurel sat down obediently. “So, Sergeant Lewis told me you had an anxiety attack during training today. Can I ask what exactly set that off?”

“During the training fight, Sergeant Barnes hit me in the ribs,” Laurel began slowly. “For a little while now, I’ve had a recurring nightmare. I was studying to be a lawyer before I decided to join the force. In the dream, I’m an A.D.A., and I’m prosecuting a particularly bad man who was planning to do horrible things. I continually challenged him, told him I was going to send him away. Then, in the dream, a riot breaks out. He has men grab me and hold me still, and then he sticks a shiv in my ribs, piercing my lung and carving it up inside before leaving me to bleed out or suffocate from my own blood filling my lungs on the floor of the prison.”

“That is… a particularly brutal dream,” Dr. Lundberg said. “Do you have many such dreams?”

“There’s a few more,” Laurel admitted. “All of them centered around being a lawyer, which is probably one reason that I decided to stop studying and join the Academy.” Another half-truth, something she was going to have to be very good at moving forward.

“Tell me,” Dr. Lundberg said.

“In one dream, I’m prosecuting a man connected to the Triad, and he sends them to kill me,” Laurel said. “In the dream, I’m with a friend who has a bodyguard, and his bodyguard is the one who saves us. In another, I’m representing an innocent man stuck on death row, framed for a crime he didn’t commit, and the people behind it decide to get rid of both of us, instigating a prison riot. In that dream, one of the men pushes me against a chain-link fence in the prison, throws me on the ground, and then starts strangling me. In the dream, I can’t fight him off. I know I’m about to die. That’s usually when I wake up. In another dream, I’m protecting a young boy whose family was murdered by a hitman, and the hitman tracks him down. We only escape because an-an officer assigned to protect us bursts in and drives the hitman off.

“Another dream I have is where something terrible happens in the city, an earthquake, and I get stuck under a wall. I’m pinned, barely able to breathe, and then my friend Tommy arrives. He pulls the wall off of me and tells me to get out of the building, that he’ll be right behind me. I get out, and just as I leave, the building collapses behind me. I rush back in when I get the chance and find him. He-He’s dead, and it’s my fault. Then there’s a dream where a one-eyed man has me abducted to get at someone close to me and threatens to kill me. I get out of that one okay, but in that dream it feels like I’m waiting to die for hours and thinking about my life. Finally, there’s the dream I already told you about, about the prison riot and the shiv.”

Dr. Lundberg looked at Laurel kindly. “How often do you have these nightmares, or flashbacks to these nightmares?” he asked.

“More than I’d like to admit,” Laurel said after a moment. “I mean, they’re just _nightmares_ , they never happened since I never became a lawyer, but they feel so _real_ , if that makes any sense.” She wasn’t lying, either. She _had_ had nightmares about those events since returning to the past, and each time it felt like she was right back in that moment.

“It does make sense, Laurel,” Dr. Lundberg said. “What you’re experiencing? They’re called night terrors. I understand that your father is also on the force?” Laurel nodded. “Then I would say your night terrors are based around things your father told you about the job when you were younger, about dealing with various issues that cropped up in the city. But it also stems from a fear, Laurel, a fear of death, which is natural for someone your age. Your life has only really just begun and to have a dream where it’s cut short, or where the life of someone else you care about is cut short, it’s only natural to fear those times.” Dr. Lundberg took his glasses off for a moment, rubbed the lenses with a handkerchief he produced, then replaced them on his nose. “Laurel, I would like to have weekly sessions with you so that you can get passed these things. I will speak to your instructors and find out when the best time is so that you don’t miss out on anything you need to pass your classes here at the academy. But it would be remiss of me not to speak to you until you’ve resolved these issues. I am also going to be giving you a prescription for Xanax to help with your anxiety.”

“Alright, if that’s what you think is best,” Laurel said softly. Even if she couldn’t talk about time travel, she could still frame her issues from the last timeline as bad dreams and get help resolving her lingering trauma with these events, particularly the incident with Darhk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Yep, Laurel is getting therapy like Oliver is in the Forgingverse, but unlike that series, it’s not going to be a major focus for this story, just kind of in the background.


	7. Accusation

Dinah Laurel Lance, now dressed in her exercise clothes, entered the police academy gym with the mindset to get to work on getting back into shape. She had debated for a moment whether she should, considering her clothing fit rather tight and therefore showed off her body in many ways, but the fact was that she couldn’t help if any of her male classmates, like Derek Venturi, were attracted to her. The only thing she could do was rebuff their advances and let them down as gently as she could unless they got pushy, which she suspected Derek would considering he had tried twice so far and that was when they were just in their academy uniforms. He was probably going to be driven closer to wanting to have her as one of his conquests once he saw her exercising. While she wasn’t as beautiful as her sister (at least as far as she was concerned), Laurel knew she was considered to be beautiful in her own right, hence Ted asking to train her in the mornings or evenings, before his regulars had arrived or after they had gone home. She also knew that some men just couldn’t help themselves when a woman left little to the imagination, which her exercise clothes did.

Laurel started out slow, running on the treadmill for ten minutes in a light jog. She would eventually get up to running a couple of miles’ worth every day on the treadmill, because she would need that both as a cop and potentially as a vigilante, since there would be times where she didn’t use her bike or stuck to the rooftops like Ollie and Sara would, and she would need to be able to run fast to reach trouble when she heard it. As a cop, she would be chasing down purse-snatchers and the like, and she needed to be able to chase them down without having to stop and catch her breath. As she jogged, Laurel thought about Ollie and Sara and where they might be now. Ollie was, of course, on Lian Yu and, if she understood right, so was Slade Wilson. She didn’t know the specifics of what had made them enemies, though. She only knew that something had happened Ollie’s second year, though now she thought about it, she _did_ recall that Ollie had mentioned Sara being there, too. So… Ollie and Sara were both on Lian Yu right now, or soon would be depending on when Sara would arrive. That meant that this time next year, Sara would be with the League of Assassins and Ollie would think she was dead. Laurel didn’t know what she could do to get her sister out of there, though. She had no leverage on Ra’s al Ghul unless she revealed Merlyn’s plans, and Nyssa had told her about blood debts and the fact that if her father had not forgiven the blood debt Malcolm incurred in an attempt to curry favor with Oliver, then not only Malcolm but also Thea would have paid the price. Which meant if she revealed Merlyn’s plans to Ra’s al Ghul, and the master assassin _believed_ her, then _both_ Malcolm and Tommy would pay the price, and there was no way Laurel would send her best friend to hell on Earth. No, she needed to find another way to free Sara, but for the time being, she had no idea what she could do to do that. She would think on it.

Stopping her light jog at one mile, Laurel stepped off the treadmill and wiped the sweat from her face and bare arms before heading to the weights section. She sat down at one of the machines and set it at a low weight level to start since she had never really exercised her arm muscles until she began boxing. She gripped the handles of the bar and pulled backwards, lifting the weight in the machine upward, her arm muscles already feeling the strain, and she was glad that she hadn’t done a higher weight setting out of pure obstinance. She continued in this vein for some time, thinking that this and other weight training for her arms would help build up her muscles and make her punches hit that much harder. She grinned to herself again as she imagined Ollie’s reaction to what he would be coming home to. He would expect the girl he left behind, albeit very angry with him: a brown-haired attorney with a fiery passion for helping the downtrodden. Instead, he would be getting a cop with honey-blonde hair who moonlighted as a vigilante and didn’t take shit anyone (and most certainly wouldn’t accept him trying to stop her, though she was sure she could avoid that by being truthful with him).

Laurel continued her exercises, noting the interest from her male classmates (and a couple of the female ones), but not doing anything to show off, because she wasn’t aiming to attract their notice in that way. Her heart belonged to one man, and she wasn’t going to cheapen that by having a relationship with someone, not even a one-night stand. The next four years were going to be very lonely, she knew, but it would make her reunion with Oliver all the more sweeter. She looked forward to the day that they reunited, when she could share everything she had been through with him, when she could help him see that there was a different path, a better path to being a hero to the people of Starling City, when they would be able to hold one another again. She longed for that day.

Laurel was lifting arm weights, one after the other, when it happened. She spotted Derek Venturi approaching her out of the corner of her eye and sighed to herself. He really didn’t leave things alone, did he? Why was he so intent on getting her to date him? Was it just some complex he had or did he think if he bugged her enough, she would accept a date from him out of obligation or something? Laurel ignored Venturi as he came up to her, focusing on her exercises, which in this case were building up her biceps, which would provide more power to her punches. Other exercises she had done built up her triceps and her forearm muscles, not to mention her leg muscles. This was the last exercise of the day, so she supposed it had just gotten to be too much for Venturi and he _had_ to approach her and try once again to get into her pants. Really, he had a very entitled attitude, as if she were obligated to say yes to him, to date him, to _sleep_ with him. Laurel internally shuddered as she continued her workout.

“You know,” Derek said as he sidled up to her, “you could get a lot of those exercises done with the main weights. You just need a spotter. I could help you there.”

“I appreciate the thought, Derek, but I’m good,” Laurel said as diplomatically as possible even though she really was beginning to get frustrated with this guy. “I’ll probably ask McKenna to serve as my spotter when I get to the point I’m using those weights.”

Derek reddened slightly in anger as he was rebuffed for a _third_ time by what had to be the most stunning girl in their class. Why the hell wasn’t she giving him a chance? Did she lean the other direction? Yeah, that had to be it, but there was only one way to get to the truth. “What are you, some kind of butch lesbian?” Derek asked loudly, attracting the attention of the other cadets and their instructor, who was watching with a frown. “That’d explain the haircut and the fixation on exercising. What, getting buff to attract that special girl?”

Laurel set down the weights she was using and turned to face Derek, wiping the sweat from her brow and arms with a towel once more, remaining calm in the face of Derek’s anger. “I cut my hair because it would make a nice target for drunken assholes,” Laurel replied calmly, “and I’m focused on getting into shape because I want to excel in our courses, and right now, I’m not as strong as I used to be, so I’m getting back into shape. As to your saving-face comment about me being a lesbian because I won’t go out with you? _If_ I was a lesbian, it wouldn’t affect why we’re here. We’re here to train as police officers, and right now at least, the LGBTQ community has equal rights to pursue careers in areas like law enforcement without fear of discrimination. Nor am I _required_ to go out with any of my classmates. But even if I _were_ interested in you as a physical specimen, Derek, I still wouldn’t go out with you because of your arrogance and conceit, as well as the fact that it would be a workplace romance, and I will _not_ engage in one of those. Too much melodrama, like some teen soap opera.” Laurel tossed her towel over her shoulder. “Now, I’ve finished for the day, so I’ll be leaving.” Laurel left Derek fuming and knew that despite everything, whispers would spread that she was, in fact, a lesbian. She couldn’t stop those rumors, nor would she try. She knew who she was, who she wanted to be with, and she wasn’t going to cheapen that.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel was reading a mystery novel on her couch, legs curled under her, when there was a knock on her front door. Laurel marked her place with a dog-eared page, went to the door, and looked out the peephole, smiling as she saw Tommy on the other side. She undid her locks and opened the door. “Come on in, Tommy,” she said with a smile, stepping back and opening the door. Tommy entered, and Laurel shut the door behind him, locking it again.

Tommy looked around with a frown. “Huh, where’s your TV?”

“I got robbed yesterday,” Laurel said with a sigh. “I forgot to lock my door yesterday morning and so they just had to walk right in and take what they wanted. All of my electronics were taken. TV, laptop, microwave, even my damn alarm clock. I managed to replace the last one with an app on my phone for the time being. I reported the robbery, of course, as well as the mugging.”

“Mugging?” Tommy said in alarm.

“I got mugged about ten feet from the door of my apartment,” Laurel said. “I gave him what he wanted, all the cash I had on hand, fifty dollars, and he still pistol-whipped me.” She touched her cheek, and Tommy noted the bruise for the first time with alarm since so far he had only seen the other side of her face.

“Mugged and robbed in one day?” Tommy said in dismay. “I can get you new stuff, Laurel. You don’t have to go without.”

“I appreciate the thought, Tommy,” Laurel said, sitting on the couch with him, “but I want to make it on my own. I’ll get a new alarm clock with my first paycheck, then a laptop later down the road. I may not even bother with a television since I’m not going to be watching the news anyways without cable. I’m pretty sure the days where you could pick up a signal with those bunny ear antennas are long gone since everything is digital these days.”

“It’s still not right,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “What is with the Glades and doing bad things to good people? Be more careful, Laurel, please. I-I don’t want to lose you like I lost Mom.”

“You won’t, Tommy,” Laurel said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I let my guard down because I’m not used to needing to take precautions. But I know better now. I lock my door even when I’m home, and I stay alert when I’m walking to and from my car, which also remains locked when I’m not using it. Of course, knowing my luck, I’ll wake up one morning to find it on cement blocks, with the tires, doors, and engine missing. That’ll be a fun day.”

“Well, if that happens, you call me, and I’ll make sure you get to the academy,” Tommy said. “And if that does happen, I’m financing either a new car for you or at least a refurbishing of the one that got stripped. The whole reason you moved here is because you can’t afford stuff like that.”

“Fine,” Laurel said with a sigh, “if only because I know you’ll just buy me a new car anyways and then not take no for an answer. You’re stubborn like that.” Tommy grinned and Laurel rolled her eyes with a fond smile on her face. “So, what brought you by?”

“Just wanted to see how your first couple of days at the police academy were,” Tommy said.

“They’ve been okay,” Laurel said. “I’m gonna be eating breakfast and lunch there from now on so I can conserve my food budget.”

“Is that a concern?” Tommy asked seriously.

“Yes,” Laurel said after a moment. “I only know how to make certain things and it’s easy for me to fall back on old habits and do takeout.”

“Well, if you won’t let me help with your electronics, I can at least buy you dinner from time to time,” Tommy said. “Why don’t we go to Chang’s?”

“Only if I can pay you back when I can,” Laurel said.

“I can agree to that,” Tommy said with a resigned sigh. “Anything else happening at the academy before we head out?”

“Oh, just had to deal with this arrogant little ass who thinks he’s God’s gift to women,” Laurel said dismissively. “He’s tried hitting on me three times and I’ve rebuffed him each time. He lost his temper in the gym today and asked if I was a ‘butch lesbian’ since I cut my hair and am focusing so much on getting in shape. I put him in his place, though.” She grinned at Tommy, who smiled back.

“So, need anyone else to talk to this guy?” Tommy asked.

“No, but again, thanks for the offer,” Laurel said with a smile.

“Okay but keep it in mind if he gives you any more trouble,” Tommy said.

“I will,” Laurel said. “Now, come on. We should go. It’ll take us a bit to get to Chang’s.”

“True,” Tommy agreed and the two friends left the apartment, Laurel taking care to lock her doors, and took Tommy’s Porsche to Chang’s, where Tommy got himself some sweet and sour chicken and Laurel got her standard broccoli and beef.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> In case anyone’s wondering, Derek Venturi is representative of everything I hate about the so-called male standard. Even as a guy, I have *never* understood this sense of entitlement that those who follow the alpha male doctrine seem to have. I’ve always been the bookish sort, though, and more in tune with my emotions being a writer, so I’m automatically considered ‘weak’ by such idiots.


	8. Insurance Policy

Dinah Laurel Lance woke up early on Saturday morning and decided today was the day she would take care of a few things, specifically contacting John Constantine and speaking to Moira Queen about getting involved in Thea’s life again. As far as the latter was concerned, she knew there was a strong possibility she would be refused since Moira would believe that Laurel was still caught up in her anger at Oliver and not wanting Thea’s memory of her brother tarnished by his ex-girlfriend’s bitterness, however deserved it might be. Laurel would accept it if that was Moira’s decision, but she would miss spending time with Thea, even if this Thea was much younger than the one she had bonded so closely with before dying.

Laurel got ready for the day and had a breakfast consisting of toast and instant oatmeal before she pulled out the scrap of paper she had written the number for Constantine that she had found after visiting an Internet café yesterday. She knew it was the right Constantine, because he even had the whole ‘petty dabbler in the Dark Arts’ bit listed in the information. She steeled herself for some potentially innuendo-filled conversation and then dialed the number.

“John Constantine,” the British man said, picking up.

“Mr. Constantine, my name is Laurel Lance, someone recommended you to me as someone who might be able to help me gain a protection against Dark Magic,” Laurel said.

“That I can do, luv, but who exactly made that recommendation?” Constantine asked.

“I would rather not say,” Laurel hedged. “I live in Starling City. Will that be a problem?”

“No, though I begin to understand why you feel you might need it,” Constantine said. “Starling City sits on a nexus of mystical energy. Dark powers are attracted to such places. I can do this, luv, but I need to know what kind of person I’m helping, and there’ll be a price.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” Laurel said instantly.

Constantine chuckled. “Don’t worry, luv, that’s not how I do business. Well, not always, at any rate. We’ll decide on a price once I understand what kind of person you are. I’ll give you a call when I’m in Starling City.” Constantine hung up without another word, and Laurel supposed that was the best she could hope for. Well, it would probably be tomorrow before she met with Constantine, so she gathered up her purse and left her apartment, locking it behind her, and went to her car. It was time to go see Mrs. Queen.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel hadn’t been back to the Queen Mansion since Moira’s wake and vaguely recalled it had been burned by rioters or something either during the Siege or in the weeks following. Laurel shook herself as she walked up to the front door of the mansion and rang the bell, knowing it was unlikely that Moira herself would answer the door. It would probably be Raisa. Sure enough, the ageing Russian maid was the one to open the door. “Miss Laurel?” she asked in surprise.

“Hello, Raisa,” Laurel said, giving the older woman a warm smile. “I was hoping I could speak with Mrs. Queen.”

“I will show you to the sitting room and find her,” Raisa promised, and led Laurel to the sitting room. Laurel sat down on one of the couches, soaking in the familiarity of the mansion, until Mrs. Queen entered.

“Laurel,” Moira greeted, a bit stiffly but with a hint of warmness to her voice. “I have to say, I was surprised when Raisa told me you were here.”

“Sorry for just dropping by unannounced like this, Mrs. Queen,” Laurel said apologetically. “But I had to build up my courage to come out here. After how we parted ways the last time… well, I’m pretty embarrassed by how I acted the last time we spoke. I was very… bitchy.”

“It was understandable, I suppose,” Moira said after a moment, taking a seat on the couch beside Laurel, who turned to face her. “You _had_ just found out Oliver had taken Sara with him on the _Gambit_ , and I suppose it was obvious as to why. You were understandably shocked and horrified. Now, what can I do for you?”

“I want to preface this by saying I’ve dealt with my issues surrounding Ollie and Sara,” Laurel said. “Now, I just want to honor them as best I can, and I know one of the things Ollie would want is for Thea to be looked after. I know Tommy is doing his best, but we both know there are things no girl will tell a guy, and I was hoping that, if Thea could use a confidant, you would let me fill that role, be a big sister of sorts to her. I understand if you would rather not risk it, considering how we parted ways last time, but I thought I’d make the request. I admit, I miss Thea, and like I’ve said, I’ve dealt with my issues surrounding Ollie and Sara.” She smiled slightly. “I’ve even asked Tommy to keep me updated on his search for them all.”

Moira considered Laurel for a moment. “Well, on the one hand, I do think that Thea could use some positive influences in her life,” Moira said. “But as truthful as I know you typically are, can you honestly say that it’s impossible that you’ll, for lack of a better term, relapse and once more become embittered towards Oliver? I don’t want Thea’s memory of Oliver tarnished, and you might not even think something you say could do that. I have to think of my daughter’s well-being, and she struggles already with losing Oliver and Robert. Having you come into her life, while it could be a blessing, could also cause her to spiral further. I know you likely had the best intentions coming here, Laurel, and I appreciate the strength it must have taken to come here and make that sort of offer. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline your request, for Thea’s sake.”

“Of course,” Laurel said, disappointed but understanding Moira’s realistic fears since, in the last timeline, that’s exactly what she would’ve done. “I understand, Mrs. Queen. But I had to make the offer, if only in Ollie’s memory.”

“And I do appreciate you wanting to honor him, Laurel,” Moira said. “It says much about your character. Perhaps later down the road, I can allow you to meet with Thea and be there for her, once I’m certain there’s no chance of any ‘relapse’.”

“I understand, Mrs. Queen,” Laurel said again, standing, Moira doing the same. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, and I hope you’ll at least pass along the message to Thea that I hope she’s doing well.”

“I believe I can do that much,” Moira said with a nod and a soft smile. “Raisa will show you out. Good day, Laurel.”

“Good day, Mrs. Queen,” Laurel said, and followed Raisa to the front door, where she was let out. She headed for her car, feeling a little deflated but knowing that that was likely the best she could’ve hoped for, considering the last time she had spoken to Mrs. Queen she had referred to Oliver as a ‘philandering bastard’. So, she understood Mrs. Queen’s reluctance.

For now, she had the rest of the weekend and a meeting with John Constantine to look forward to.

**_*DC*_ **

The next day, Laurel was again reading, waiting for Constantine to arrive, when there was a knock on her front door. While she figured it was Constantine, she still checked out her peephole to be sure and, finding it was him, unlocked her door and opened it. “Come in, Mr. Constantine,” Laurel said, letting him come inside before shutting her door and locking it. She noted he had a bag with him. “I’m guessing that’s the supplies for this protection?”

“That’d be right, luv,” Constantine said. “Now, before we get to that, I need to figure out what kind of person you are.”

“Do I need to fill out a questionnaire or something?” Laurel quipped.

“No,” Constantine said, pulling out a small jewel, “but you do need to stand perfectly still. Too much movement interferes with this type of magic.”

“Okay,” Laurel said, willing herself to stay still as Constantine began to chant in Latin, she thought it was. A light wind seemed to pick up in the apartment, which should’ve been impossible but then, so was traveling to purgatory to save her sister’s soul and she had done that with Ollie by her side. Finally, Constantine stopped, and the jewel, a diamond, began to glow, softly at first, but then it was as bright as the sun, shining white before fading. Constantine seemed satisfied with the results. “So, do I pass the test?”

“Aye, luv, you do,” Constantine said. “Now, as to the protection, you’re going to need to change a bit. The protection has to be on your abdomen.”

“I don’t see why that is,” Laurel objected. “Why can’t it be on my arm or something? You just want to see me with my shirt off, don’t you?”

“No, luv, that’s just a side benefit,” Constantine assured, to which Laurel huffed in exasperation. “No, the protection needs to be close to the soul, close to the things that power it, and the closest one can get to those is the abdomen or the breast. Seeing as you’re a woman, I figured you’d prefer the abdomen.”

“Yes, if it’s a choice between those two, that’s what I’d prefer,” Laurel said tightly. “And I guess I’m going to have to trust you. I admit, I don’t know much about magic.”

“Then why are you getting a protection from the dark kind?” Constantine questioned.

“Let’s call it an insurance policy,” Laurel said, not wanting to get into it. “So, what’s the price going to be for this?”

“A few locks of your hair,” Constantine replied.

Laurel was instantly suspicious of this as well as a little surprised. “Why my hair?”

“Because, luv, a strand of hair from a person pure in heart, as my little ritual earlier confirmed you to be, is a potent and powerful ingredient in many protective spells and rituals and a couple of powerful potions,” Constantine replied.

“I see,” Laurel said. “Well, I guess that’s better than cutting into my limited funds or sleeping with you. Okay, I can part with a few locks of hair. You got scissors?”

“I do,” Constantine said, presenting them to her. They cut a few locks of hair from her fringe and Constantine placed them in a Ziploc baggie for the time being. “Alright, now, you need to change so we can do this.”

“You stay right here,” Laurel said firmly. “I don’t need you trying to get a free show.”

“I’m wounded, luv,” Constantine said, putting a hand over his heart for dramatic effect. Laurel rolled her eyes and retreated to her bedroom, where she changed into a sports bra before returning to the front room. Constantine proceeded to tattoo Chinese lettering like she had seen on Ollie’s abdomen during their moment of passion the night before the Undertaking on her own abdomen, and then pressed his fingers to it, chanting again, though this time she suspected it was in Mandarin, since it sounded like she had heard some of the Triad speak in. The protection glowed brightly for a moment and if Laurel had been staring in a mirror, she would’ve seen her eyes glow a brilliant green before it faded. “Alright, luv, it’s done. Now, there’s a bit of a trick to this protection. It’s powered by love and hope, two of the strongest positive forces in the world. But there’s a catch. If you’re too conflicted by anger, fear, or grief, then the protection won’t work.”

“Thank you, Mr. Constantine, and I hope my hair helps you in protecting other people,” Laurel said.

“Keep me in mind for any other magical needs you might have,” Constantine said, gathering up his things and leaving. Laurel shut the door behind him and locked it and retreated to her couch, fingering the stinging tattoo on her abdomen. It was a little weird, having a tattoo. She had _never_ had a tattoo before since tattoos had negative connotations in the minds of some people and she hadn’t wanted negative associations being attached to her. Laurel thought about what Constantine had said about what powered the tattoo and what could keep it from working. Love and hope… well, if this had been four years ago in her mind, when Oliver first returned home and she was still a ball of grief, anger, and fury, it would’ve been impossible for her to power it. But since she had left all that behind, she had become much more loving, much more hopeful, and she knew that was something Ollie had loved about her. But there was one catch now, though. She was still conflicted over her death at the hands of Damien Darhk. She still felt grief at times over the life taken from her, the fact that she and Ollie were getting close again being stolen away from her. She also felt rage at being killed to send a message. And, of course, she felt fear every time she thought of Damien Darhk, of his sadistic glee and his satisfied grunts as he had thrust that arrow deeper and deeper into her before twisting it up inside of her, carving up her lung. She had seen the look in his eyes. He knew what he had done. He knew she would die, and he was absurdly pleased that it would be a painful death because her father had pissed him off and he wanted Quentin to pay.

Laurel realized she had begun to hyperventilate again and closed her eyes, centering herself. She needed to get changed again. She and Tommy were going to Le Nonne, a fine dining Italian restaurant, for dinner. He was calling it a celebratory dinner to congratulate her on surviving her first week in the police academy.

**_*DC*_ **

At Le Nonne, Tommy and Laurel were sitting at a table, plates of spaghetti and a basket of breadsticks on the table before them. Their plates of spaghetti were half-finished, with Tommy having gone for the alfredo sauce while Laurel had gone for the meaty marinara. “You know, we could do stuff like this more often,” Tommy said to her idly as he selected another breadstick.

Laurel felt a little discomfort, worrying that this was Tommy expressing an interest in her. “I appreciate the thought, Tommy, but if this is a prelude to you asking me out, I should stop you right there. I’m not really interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with anyone. I want to focus on my career right now and make something of myself as a cop.”

“Oh, hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything,” Tommy said, raising his hands slightly. “I just meant that we could keep in more regular contact, hang out like we used to.”

Laurel flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, Tommy,” she apologized. “But I’ve been dealing with Venturi giving me either baleful or longing looks the entire week and I reacted poorly.”

“Well, like I said, if you want someone to talk to the guy, I’m game,” Tommy said. “Besides, I understand. I’m not exactly looking into having a steady relationship myself.”

“Right,” Laurel said, relieved. “Yeah, I could use having a friend to talk with more frequently, though I do have McKenna at the academy.”

“McKenna? Hall? She’s training to be a cop?” Tommy said in surprise.

“Yeah,” Laurel said. “Anyways, I was hoping you could do something for me. Could you keep an eye on Thea for me? I talked with Mrs. Queen about being part of her life again yesterday but Mrs. Queen doesn’t want to risk me tarnishing Ollie’s memory for her.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Tommy said soberly. “I’ll work on Mrs. Queen, too, get her to see you’re not the same as you were last year. Besides, it’s what Ollie would want, us looking after her.”

“Yes, it is,” Laurel said sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> I hope I captured Constantine well-enough, and I thought I’d bring up the fact with his part in this that Laurel really is one of those characters who is pure of heart, and that sort of thing matters in most systems of magic.
> 
> Oh, and yes, the final scene was me officially nipping Merlance in the bud.


	9. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is on the longish side because I just couldn’t find a place to cut it off and start a new chapter with.

Dinah Laurel Lance and McKenna Hall were taking turns spotting each other at the weights. Laurel had increased her strength over the course of the past few weeks and she was now able to lift nearly triple what she had been, and she was hoping to at least get to the levels she had had while training with Oliver or Dig in the Bunker, though she wanted to push herself further if she could. She knew that she would never be as solidly built as Sara was because of her slender frame, that she was more of a wiry-muscled woman and would need to rely more on her speed and agility to fight off bad guys, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to get as strong as she possibly could. She would need every advantage as a vigilante, especially since she would be operating on her own, just like she had those first few months of being Black Canary in the last timeline since Oliver refused to encourage her vigilantism and constantly worried over her, thus keeping him from treating her as an equal. Something, she mused, that they would need to discuss when he returned, because she would not put up with his overprotective bullshit again.

“So, what are you planning on doing as far as your career goes?” McKenna asked as she spotted for Laurel.

“What do you mean?” Laurel said, breathing as evenly as she could as she lifted the weights up and down.

“Well, I’m planning on shooting for detective,” McKenna said.

“I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” Laurel lied, while filing that away. McKenna could prove to be a useful ally for Black Canary since Laurel didn’t want her own career as a cop to be connected to her vigilante persona. It would risk too much chance of people learning her secret.

“You should consider shooting for detective, too,” McKenna encouraged.

“I’ll think about it,” Laurel said. “We still on for a sparring session after this?”

“You’re a machine, Laurel,” McKenna said. “How the hell can you go from working out to doing a sparring session, especially when we have another hand-to-hand lesson this afternoon?”

“I’m motivated,” Laurel said with a grin as she finished her lifting and set the bar on the ‘arms’ waiting for it before sitting up. “Your turn.”

**_*DC*_ **

After a brief sparring session during which Laurel gave McKenna a few pointers and suggested Ted Grant’s gym as a place to work out, Laurel and McKenna joined their classmates at the gun range for shooting practice. While it was expected that a cop’s gun would be holstered for the majority of their day and brought out only in the most dire of situations, they still needed to be as sharp as they could in shooting. “Alright, just like with the sparring, we want to get an idea of where you’re at, so we’re going to have you come up in groups. You get one clip and a target to shoot. Once your clip is empty, _do not reload_. Instead, set the gun down and wait for everyone else to be finished. Once finished, we will assess each group’s shooting based on how many times they hit the target and where. Our weapons only have ten shots in them, so make them count. Like the sparring, we’ll go alphabetically.”

Laurel ended up being in the third group. She put the muffler headphones over her ears and the protective eyewear, then picked up the weapon provided and shoved the clip in, just like she had been taught, flicking the safety off. She waited for the instructor to call for them to begin, then began shooting, taking a moment between each shot to adjust her aim. She saw a few of her bullets rip through the paper, but she couldn’t see where they had landed. Finally, she fired her tenth round and discharged the empty clip, setting both it and the weapon down and waited for the rest of her group to finish. Finally, she felt a tap on her shoulder from the instructor, and she took off the protective gear and stepped back into the group of cadets. She waited nervously for how she did, though she was honest with herself and knew she probably hadn’t done very well. She had never fired a pistol in her life (except for that time with Officer Daily and she had been at close range) and only used the shotgun she had bought after Cyrus Vanch abducted her once, when that hitman had come for Taylor at her home, and she certainly hadn’t hit the bastard then. So, she was already planning on spending a lot of time in the gun range to sharpen her aim since she knew she would need that to graduate the academy.

Laurel waited with the rest of the cadets as the instructor and gun range supervisor unloaded the targets, which the cadets had written their names on before loading them onto the hook. Finally, they finished. “Alright,” the instructor said. “Janson, your aim is pretty good. Nice grouping, but there were a few outside the target zone. Work on your aim and you should be fine. Jenkins, you’re all over the place. All of your bullets hit outside the target zone. You need some serious range time if you’re gonna get your aim down pat by the time you graduate. Kingston, nice grouping, all in the target zone, all center mass. That’s good work. Knight, half of your shots went wild and went through nothing but paper. Work on your aim. Lance. I expected better from someone whose father is on the force. Your aim is all over the place, and while you did manage to hit inside the target zone, you hit shoulders, arms, legs, even a headshot, but none of them landed center-mass. Sharpen your aim at the range.” Laurel nodded and the instructor continued. Laurel had flushed a little at being called out for having a father on the force but knew explaining that her father was against her being on the force and had refused to let her or Sara learn how to shoot wouldn’t fly, especially since she’d been living on her own since she was twenty-one. She had had the time, she just never cared to learn how to shoot a gun (one of the many reasons that she hadn’t managed to kill Malcolm Merlyn herself when she went after him upon learning he had drugged Thea to kill Sara). So, she would dedicate herself to doing just what the instructor said.

**_*DC*_ **

It was lunchtime at the academy, and Laurel and McKenna had gotten their trays of food, Laurel filling a glass up with apple juice from the juice machine that you could get water, orange juice, or apple juice from to go with today’s lunch, which looked like an attempt at Swedish meatballs with a salad on the side. Laurel noted that she was eating more meat these days than she used to, but that was because meat helped in growing muscle mass and she needed that for both her work as a police officer and when she was working as Black Canary.

She wouldn’t necessarily have called herself a vegetarian before, considering her favorite Chinese dish had been beef and broccoli and her favorite dish from Toro’s was spicy tuna over crispy rice, but she had definitely eaten more vegetables than meat. She was still never going to be anywhere near as thickly built as her sister, her frame just wouldn’t allow for that, but she could build a little more muscle by eating meat than if she stuck with her usual eating habits. The police department encouraged its cadets to have a balanced diet and that was what Laurel was trying to accomplish, including learning to cook dishes like this at home. So far, the fire department had only been called three times, and then only because Tommy was a worry wart. She had had everything under control.

“So, I’m guessing you’re going to spend more time on the gun range after today?” McKenna asked.

“Yeah, I want to be the best cop I can be, and I can’t do that if my aim is so terrible,” Laurel said. “Besides, I want to wipe that smug smirk off of Venturi’s face by beating his ‘high score’.” Venturi had gotten high praise for grouping all of his shots center-mass, but it wasn’t a perfect score. There had been a couple of shots that fell outside of the center target. Laurel was determined to get to the point that all of her shots were in the center target, if only to teach that bastard a lesson for giving her a superior look when he finished.

“Well, who knows, maybe they’ll pair you off in hand-to-hand this afternoon and you can give him a lesson in humility that way,” McKenna said with a smile. “As far as the gun range is concerned, I’ll come with you, just in case he tries to ask you out while you’re there.”

“Thanks, McKenna,” Laurel said. “So, what do you do when you’re not studying for the academy?”

“I still go clubbing from time to time,” McKenna admitted. “It’s a nice way to relieve stress. But being a cop-in-training is hard on the social life. I can’t count the number of times a guy has asked me what I’m doing, I tell him I’m training to be a cop, and I never see him again.”

“That sucks,” Laurel said sympathetically. “As for me, I’m not seeing anyone. I’m devoting everything to my career since I really let myself go after the _Gambit_ sank.”

McKenna stared at her friend for a moment, then asked a question she had wanted to ask for a while. “Do you ever think about them? Oliver and Sara?”

“All the time,” Laurel said honestly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still angry at what they did, but they were my boyfriend and my sister. I miss them, and I wish we could sort this all out instead of it hanging before me like a chasm, because in all honesty, I don’t think I’ll be ready for a relationship again until I get some kind of closure there, and even then, it might take a while. Ollie was the love of my life.”

“Well, here’s to closure and you kicking Venturi’s ass this afternoon,” McKenna said cheerily just as Venturi himself passed by. He gave her a dirty look and continued on his way. “Please kick his ass.”

“If we get paired together, I definitely will,” Laurel promised. “I need something to put him in his place.”

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel was smiling as she entered her apartment that evening, locking her door behind her as per usual. They _had_ paired her and Venturi together in sparring class. He had kept trying to put her in compromising positions, something the female instructor noted and called him out on, but he kept doing it, pointing out criminals weren’t going to play by the rules to defend his actions. So, Laurel had taken matters into her own hands, using her agility and flexibility to twist out of his grip and reverse their fortunes, typically knocking Venturi flat on his ass each time. By the end of their sparring matches, he was glaring at her but could do nothing with the male and female instructors both there, both of them praising Laurel’s skill.

Laurel went to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. It was time to see if she had done things right in putting together her uniform again. She had bought all of the same stuff that she had used last time and had laid out the suit on her bed so she could try it on when she came home. Now, she stripped down and then slowly put her suit back on in the familiar routine she had established, ignoring the little voice in her head that said Malcolm Merlyn had had a point in calling it a ‘bondage outfit’. Once she was finished, she moved in front of the mirror to look at herself… and gasped as fear and a sudden panic overtook her. She fell to her knees, hyperventilating, hands clutching at her chest as her heart thumped painfully behind her ribs, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin as a memory rose from the depths of her mind.

_“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” Darhk said before turning to face Black Canary._

_“Miss Lance.” Black Canary turned her head to face Darhk, feeling fear and resignation coursing through her, remembering what her father had told her about how Darhk had forced him to cooperate. “Nine months ago, I made your daddy a promise. I told him what I would do if he betrayed me.” The pressure on Green Arrow had lessened and he was down on one knee, but at these words he stood and nocked an arrow, firing it. Darhk caught it as well as recapturing Green Arrow. “Impressive. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah… I want you to give your father a message… from me. I want you to tell him…” Darhk suddenly thrust the arrow into Black Canary’s side, grunting in sadistic satisfaction as he thrust the arrow further and further into Black Canary’s side, blood bubbling up passed her lips as she let out choked gasps with each thrust, her airways seeming to close up as blood filled her lung. “I’m a man of my word,” Darhk finished and then let her drop to the ground. The next thing she knew, she was in Green Arrow’s arms, looking up at him, and then nothing but darkness…_

Laurel’s hands scrabbled at the collar of her suit, trying to find the first clasp holding it in place.

_“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” Darhk said before turning to face Black Canary._

Laurel managed to find the clasp and pulled hard, practically ripping the top part of her uniform off, leaving her in only the black vest-like layer she had underneath for the sake of modesty. She reached down and gripped the hem of it, pulling it off in one smooth stroke.

_“Miss Lance.” Black Canary turned her head to face Darhk, feeling fear and resignation coursing through her, remembering what her father had told her about how Darhk had forced him to cooperate. “Nine months ago, I made your daddy a promise. I told him what I would do if he betrayed me.”_

Laurel’s gasps were coming in quick succession now as she yanked off her boots and started to shimmy out of the leather pants.

_The pressure on Green Arrow had lessened and he was down on one knee, but at these words he stood and nocked an arrow, firing it. Darhk caught it as well as recapturing Green Arrow. “Impressive. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah… I want you to give your father a message… from me. I want you to tell him…”_

Laurel, now clad in only her undergarments and covered in a cold sweat that clung to her clammy white skin, moved towards her bathroom, stumbling and falling as the memory seized her again.

_Darhk suddenly thrust the arrow into Black Canary’s side, grunting in sadistic satisfaction as he thrust the arrow further and further into Black Canary’s side, blood bubbling up passed her lips as she let out choked gasps with each thrust, her airways seeming to close up as blood filled her lung._

Laurel was now giving out similar gasps as she crawled towards her bathroom, her training from Nyssa and Oliver forgotten in the moment of reliving the night she was murdered, the night that her self-made suit had failed to protect her, the night that she had lost _everything_.

_“I’m a man of my word,” Darhk finished and then let her drop to the ground. The next thing she knew, she was in Green Arrow’s arms, looking up at him, and then nothing but darkness…_

Laurel pulled herself up onto shaky legs, opened her medicine cabinet, and pulled out her bottle of medication meant to be taken in case of a panic attack. She popped the lid, pulled out one of the pills, and put it in her mouth. She filled a glass of water up and swallowed quickly, washing the pill down and setting down the glass, and then sank to her knees, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, rocking back and forth, willing herself to calm down.

As she did so, Laurel reasoned out what was happening. She knew that panic attacks could be triggered, and she knew exactly what it was. She had basically put on the suit she had been murdered in. She might as well have been putting on the dress she would be buried in. Well, this had made one thing clear. She would need to craft a new suit. She turned her mind to that while she calmed down. If she was going to start from scratch, then maybe it was time to ‘live a little’ when it came to her time as a vigilante and not have a suit that was so obviously her, conservative and reserved. She thought of Sara’s Canary outfit, how it had accentuated her femininity, and realized she wanted something like that.

Eventually, Laurel calmed down and returned to her bedroom, dressing in her training uniform again on automatic. She had just finished pulling on the shirt when there was a knock on her front door, a knock she was intimately familiar with. _Not now, please, not now,_ she begged whatever deity might be listening. But if there was one listening, it decided to give her the proverbial finger because the knock came again. Her father’s knock, the knock he had when he was drunk and angry. How had he even found out where she lived? Oh, right. Her address would be on file with the police academy and her father was a full detective, easily able to access those records. Taking a deep breath, Laurel went to her front door, checked out the peephole to be safe, and then opened the door.

Quentin brushed her aside as he entered, looking around with a critical eye. “So, it’s not enough that you have to join the police academy against my wishes, but you have to move out of your safe neighborhood into this shithole?” he snapped, and Laurel flinched slightly before steeling herself.

“I couldn’t afford my old place on a cop’s salary,” Laurel said evenly. “You know what starting pay for cops is. Surely you realized I’d have to move out.”

“I thought you’d get smart when you saw the pay and decide to stop this foolishness,” Quentin snapped. “But then again, you’ve always been the problem child in the family, leading your charmed little life as Queen’s girlfriend, when he wasn’t off fucking some other girl. I guess since you’re going through with this, you really do have a death wish since you got Sara killed. That’s the only thing that makes any sense of this fucking crazy idea you have that you can wear a badge.” Laurel flinched again, but told herself that he was drunk, that he didn’t mean it, that he never meant it, that he still loved her. He would be sorry eventually because he always was in the last timeline when he was sober. Quentin ranted for a little while longer, listing all of Laurel’s perceived faults, and then stumbled out of her apartment. She locked the door behind him and then retreated to her bedroom. She opened her closet and dug around in it, finding what she was looking for. Sara’s stuffed shark, the one Quentin had gotten her at the Starling Aquarium. Laurel went to her bed and laid down on it, holding Sara’s shark close and letting herself have a good long cry as the crushing loneliness of her existence, despite her renewed friendship with Tommy and new friendship with McKenna, came crashing down on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Writing Laurel having that panic attack was hard. I’ve only had one true panic attack in my life, but it was memorable and left me shaking like a leaf, which is why I had that happen with Laurel.


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